


Brooding

by TheaNishimori



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner/Steve Rogers - Freeform, CapHulk, Clint Barton/Loki - Freeform, Frosthawk - Freeform, Hawkfrost - Freeform, HulkCap, M/M, Mpreg, Past Thor/Loki - Freeform, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slash, Thorki - Freeform, Thunderfrost - Freeform, dubcon, noncon, pseudocest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 57
Words: 101,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheaNishimori/pseuds/TheaNishimori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint undergoes hypnosis to remember what he had done while under Loki's control and becomes unable to get Loki out of his mind. Meanwhile, Loki suspects he is being poisoned by Odin. Set after "The Avengers" but before "Thor: The Dark World." Explicit HawkFrost (FrostHawk) and ThunderFrost (Thorki).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint Remembers

At first the memories Clint had of his time under Loki’s control were hazy, veiled, seen as though through a fog, but as time went on he began to catch glimpses of clearer vision – moments of lucidity when he could recall every detail of what had happened – and he began to suspect that while in the capricious god’s thrall, his mind at least had not been compromised. He could not have functioned as Loki’s right-hand man, after all, if he had not had his wits about him. Loki had somehow managed to change Clint’s loyalty without damaging the rest of his heart and soul. For that, Clint thought with bitter irony, he should probably be grateful. It allowed him to resume working for S.H.I.E.L.D. without having to endure too many rigorous psychological evaluations.

When he had first recovered from being under Loki’s influence, he had been filled with too much rage at the violation to even _want_ to remember what had happened; later he had dreaded remembering for fear he would become paralyzed with guilt at what he had done, despite the fact that he had been rendered incapable of disobeying Loki’s orders. But now, with the distance of several weeks and some mandatory (if half-hearted) attempts to open up and talk to the agency’s psychiatrist about his trauma, Clint was growing more curious about the details of his involvement. He had put his knowledge of the Tesseract immediately to use for his new master; what other sensitive, classified information had he divulged to Loki? Though she would not elaborate, Natasha had let slip that Loki had obtained information on her through Clint; what personal secrets of his comrades had he blabbed to the would-be world dictator?

With such questions nagging at him, Clint Barton finally decided to undergo hypnosis therapy in an attempt to unlock his stored memories or, at the very least, to make some of that blurry haze come into clearer focus. He informed Nick Fury of his decision and was met with resounding approval; when he told Natasha, the reaction was more ambivalent.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” she asked, concern shadowing her eyes. “Once you remember certain things, it’s not like you can _un-_ remember them.”

“If it even works at all, you mean,” he’d countered. “I need to do this, Tasha. I need to know how much information I gave Loki.”

“What for? It’s not going to make you feel any better. And Thor assured us that Loki would never be allowed to leave Asgard again – he isn’t going to be a threat anymore. So why do it?”

“I... I just _have_ to,” Clint answered, struggling to explain himself. “There’s this whole block of time that I don’t remember – not clearly, anyway – and if I don’t get it back, I would feel like Loki still controls that part of me... even though it’s in the past. I want to get back what he took from me. _All_ of it.”

Natasha nodded at last, understanding his reasoning even if she did not agree with it. Clint would soon come to realize that she had been right to warn him against this course of action, but by then the damage would have already been done.

 

* * *

 

The first impression Clint had after coming out of hypnosis was confusion and disorientation. The hypnotherapist S.H.I.E.L.D. had assigned to his case gently reminded him where he was and why, allowing him to acclimate himself gradually to the present.

“Do you remember what happened after the incident at the Tesseract research facility?” the psychiatrist prodded once Clint had regained his bearings.

“Yes... Yes, I remember everything. Like it was yesterday.” Clint licked his lips, which felt dry. He’d been under hypnosis for almost two hours, and he realized he must have been talking almost the whole time. “What did I tell you?”

The psychiatrist smiled. “Quite a lot. But don’t worry – I have top-level security clearance.” The older man adjusted his glasses and added, “I also have a sworn duty to my patients not to disclose anything we speak about here. Not even to our employer. But I can let you have a copy of the recording of our session so you know exactly what we did today. I think we broke through the dam in your mind, the barrier your captor had set up to prevent you from accessing your memories once you regained control of your faculties. You should now be able to remember anything and everything you wish to from that time. That being said, I should warn you... you’ve been violated. In almost every way possible. Even in some ways we Humans had not known were possible before. You’ll need time to adjust to your memories – at least as much time as it took to make them. So I’m putting in a medical order for a leave of absence.”

Clint opened his mouth to protest but no sound came out. He had just had a flashback of green eyes, and echoes of laughter, and–

“Oh, God!” he gasped. “He _didn’t...!_ ”

“I’m afraid so,” the therapist said with a strained expression. “Your captor forced you to engage in sex acts with him.”

Clint wanted to vomit, but he swallowed hard and put his head down, nearly to his knees, and gripped his short hair in both hands. He was seeing – no, _reliving_ – wrestling with Loki in a wide bed, getting tangled in the sheets as he scrabbled to unclothe the other man, who turned to him with a leer and a laugh as Clint’s too-hasty hands tore the fabric of the silk shirt he was wearing.

_“My, my... What a beast you are in bed,” Loki had teased with a cluck of his tongue. “I rather like it.”_

_“Let me fuck you, Sir,” Clint heard his own voice saying, thick and rough with lust._

_“But of course. That’s the whole idea,” Loki replied, then languidly turned over onto all fours and spread his knees to make room for his lover/slave between them. As Clint hurried to undo his trousers and push them down, his erect cock leaking precome, Loki reached behind to place a slender finger at his hole. Clint saw a shimmer of green-blue that he knew (without knowing_ how _he knew) was magic: Loki was conjuring oil and preparing himself for penetration. As the memory replayed in Clint’s mind, he watched in disgusted horror as his former self eagerly entered the orifice and began rutting like the beast Loki had called him. Clint could actually_ feel _his cock sliding in and out of the other man’s ass, remember every nuance of the heat and friction, how Loki clenched his hole as if to wring out every last drop of come from Clint’s straining cock, pushing back against each thrust to drive their union that much deeper – and suddenly Clint was coming, shooting his load into Loki’s body, crying out with a pleasure more intense than anything else he had ever experienced._

_“That was wonderful, my Hawk,” Loki purred as he sank down to lie flat on the bed, taking Clint with him._

“No,” Clint said aloud, and the way his hollow voice echoed in the therapist’s room brought him back into the here and now. “No, _goddammit!_ ”

“Agent Barton,” the therapist’s calm voice called, with just enough hint of authority to help him pull himself together. “As you remember certain events, especially the traumatic ones, you have to give yourself time to process them and... grieve. For you, it’s like they’re happening for the first time now. Let yourself be angry – take that anger out in constructive ways – but don’t let the memories make you feel powerless. You have done everything you can to deal with your situation. In fact you’ve proven yourself to be braver than most by trying to unlock your memories, even when you knew they would bring you no comfort. You are not helpless. And you are most certainly not alone in this. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Clint finally answered, still dazed. “I just... need time to... process... everything.”

“That’s right. And if you need to talk, you can call me at this number... _any_ time.” When Clint nodded, the psychiatrist reiterated, “You are not alone, Agent Barton. You’re strong; you’ll get through this.” 


	2. Loki's Illness

Loki lay curled in his bed in abject misery. The bright lights of his cell did nothing to alleviate his growing headache, and he was already exhausted from throwing up what little of his meal he had managed to force down to start with. It had been nine – no, ten days since he had last been able to eat a full ration of the bland food distributed to the inmates of the Asgardian prison. He knew it was not a coincidence that his trouble had started the very day his mother (or at least the woman he used to think of as his mother) had left the palace to help the orphaned children of Vanaheim in the wake of the chaos wrought by marauders. The fact that her departure had stemmed from events Loki had set in motion did nothing to improve his mood, either.

He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, as his stomach roiled with pain. It had begun the morning after Frigga had sent her last projection to visit Loki, informing him that she would be gone for a fortnight at least. As queen of Asgard, she was devoted to going on missions of mercy; she intended to ensure that each orphan had a loving home before she returned. Loki had asked her, in a fit of peevish jealousy, if she planned to adopt any of _those_ children.

“Of course not,” she had answered. “I would have to consult with my husband before making such a decision, and at any rate my heart is full enough – and heavy enough – with the two sons I already have.”

Loki had guiltily apologized for his sharp words, knowing full well that the queen risked Odin’s wrath by meeting him through her projections when her husband had expressly forbidden her from visiting Loki’s cell.

“It’s all right, my dear. I know you’re only upset because I will not be able to speak to you for so long,” Frigga had serenely replied. “But remember this: the only time I was allowed to keep an orphaned child was when Odin himself brought you home – and it was entirely his decision to do so.”

Loki knew she still wished him to believe that Odin had paternal feelings toward him, but he could not bring himself to acknowledge such a blatant lie. He had killed his true father in a mad quest to gain Odin’s approval, but even that had not been enough to garner a kind word from the All-Father. Loki knew now that nothing would ever be enough – that he was nothing more than a tool, a monster which had been kept to be trained into a weapon but proven to be useless. Odin had sent him to the dungeons to be rid of him, once and for all.

Now Loki wondered if that punishment had not been enough, if the All-Father was not satisfied with merely having him spend the rest of his life in captivity. Loki had used magic to examine his meals – even the water in his privy and the air circulated into his cell – for any traces of poison, but he could find none. That only meant that whoever had poisoned him possessed greater magical power than his own, capable of masking the toxins which were making him ill. Odin was one of the few who did. It stood to reason that, if he had decided to kill Loki without executing him outright, he would most likely make it look like an illness. He would also wait until Frigga was not around to raise an alarm or, worse yet, investigate that illness herself and find its true cause. Loki was beginning to amend his theory, however, to include death by starvation – even a minute dose of poison could effectively kill him, though over a longer course of time, by depriving him of vital nutrition.

It had all started out mildly, with a slight upset that he could not get rid of and which he had attributed to spoiled or contaminated food; when he had induced vomiting and purged his stomach of its contents, he had felt well again. But the next day it had grown worse, and the day after even more, so that now the very smell of food made him retch. He had forced himself to chew and swallow the parts of his meals that seemed least likely to be laced with poison, but it was no use. The last time he had heaved, all that came out was a bilious green fluid. He had not been able to keep down a single morsel of food for five days. Even water made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

Loki closed his eyes and mentally counted again. Yes, it had been ten days since Frigga had left. If she were gone for a fortnight, which was the earliest she had planned to return, he would have no recourse for four more days. He could not notify the guards, for any healer sent to the dungeons would be incapable of finding the poison or ordered by Odin to ignore it. And it was far more probable that Frigga would be gone for longer than a fortnight. Loki struggled with the growing realization that he would either be dead before she returned or too gravely ill for her magic to save him – he was already too weak to even stand long enough to shower. Odin must have planned it that way. And it seemed he wanted Loki to suffer for as much and as long as possible.

In his misery, Loki pulled his sheets (the lovely, finest quality linens Frigga had provided for him) closer around his emaciated form and over his head. He would not give Odin the satisfaction of seeing him cry. If the pain wracking his body forced tears to slip out from between his tightly closed eyes, at least the damp stains would be covered by layers of material. The first few days, he had prayed to the Norns that Frigga would return to Asgard to rescue him from his plight; now he fervently begged for death, and soon. 


	3. Clint Struggles

Clint sat in his wreck of an apartment, contemplating the last bottle of beer in his hand. It was empty, as were all the other bottles of assorted liquor he had kept in his home-away-from-S.H.I.E.L.D. Alcohol had been the only way – or at least, the easiest way – to drown his overwhelming memories, and even that merely made him numb enough to not care about what his mind was revealing to him. He considered going out to buy more, then rejected that thought since going out required getting dressed, and getting dressed required taking a shower, and taking a shower required getting up out of his comfortable reclining chair. It simply required too much effort.

Over the course of the past few days, he had been reliving his time with Loki, trying very hard to go through his memories chronologically. The frustrating part was that quite often one memory would trigger another, similar memory; then another; leading him down endless rabbit trails of repeated experience. And he knew now that he and Loki had fucked like rabbits. A lot. Almost every spare minute, in fact. And, while he was under Loki’s unique brand of mind control, Clint had enjoyed every minute of it.

The strange thing, though, was that Loki seemed to have enjoyed it just as much. Even though the mercurial god of mischief was more often the fuckee than the fucker, left with a sore ass and Clint’s passionate bite marks all over his back, he had smiled in genuine satisfaction after each bout. His words now echoed in Clint’s mind with a clarity that made the archer curse the day he had decided to try hypnotherapy.

_“You’re really a good lover – you know that, don’t you?” Loki had told him once while running the tips of his fingers through Clint’s short hair. “You fulfill my desires in ways I hadn’t even imagined possible.”_

_“I’m glad to be able to please you,” Clint had answered, at the time meaning it with all the sincerity of his heart._

_“I know. And you pleasure me, too,” Loki had said with a lecherous grin. “When my plans come to fruition, Thanos may rule the rest of the Nine Realms, but Midgard – your Earth – will be a haven of peace under my rule; and you, my sweet Hawk, will be my second in command. As a Midgardian yourself, you will advise me on how best to rule your people. Perhaps I should make you my consort – that would help your people more readily accept me as their ruler, don’t you think? If they know how I value and cherish one of their own.”_

_“It’s possible,” Clint answered, “but I’m no expert on such matters. I only ask that I be allowed to serve you... in every way I can.”_

_“Mmm,” Loki murmured, a contemplative smile curving his lips. “Your wish shall be granted. For now, you may serve me by kissing me, my dearest.”_

Clint had complied with alacrity, and his tongue had been engaged by Loki’s with equal enthusiasm. Remembering it now made Clint’s stomach twist, but there was a part of him that had to admit, Loki had been a good lover as well. The sensations he recalled from the many times he had reached his climax with Loki were far more powerful and pleasurable than anything he had experienced with a Human lover, either male or female. As the last of the alcohol wore off from his system, he couldn’t help but remember some of the other remarks Loki had made.

 _“I know I can trust you, my Hawk, because I’ve ensured that you won’t betray me. You, at least, will never leave me for another – let alone a pathetic, mortal, Midgardian woman! You love thrusting that wonderfully thick manhood into my ass, don’t you? Of course you do! You have great taste, my little Hawk. It’s no wonder that you hadn’t chosen a mate yet – you were waiting for someone perfect for you; you were waiting for_ me _.”_

_“Yes, Sir,” Clint had gasped, every nerve on fire with the intoxicating scent of Loki, thrusting into his welcoming flesh with emotions akin to adoration. “I must have been waiting... hoping... for someone like you.”_

_“There is_ no one _else like me, my Hawk. Remember that! Remember that I – and I alone – can satisfy your every need. I am the only one who can make you feel this way.”_

_“Yes... yes! You are... the only... ahhh!”_

_With several cries of ecstasy, Clint came deep inside of Loki; and before his shrinking member had slipped out of Loki’s slick hole, he could feel the demigod coming too, striping the sheets with his seed as he stimulated his own cock with one hand._

_“My, what a mess we’ve made,” Loki remarked when he had caught his breath, directing a knowing grin over his shoulder._

_“Allow me to clean it, Sir,” Clint had offered. When Loki rolled onto his back and away from the wetness, Clint did not hesitate to put his face to the sticky mess and start licking it off the sheets. Loki had watched in indolent fascination, smiling when Clint lapped up a particularly thick pool with his tongue extended._

_“You’re a man of many talents, Clint Barton,” Loki had laughed, then roughly demanded a kiss as he toppled Clint over and wrapped his arms around him._

What really irked Clint now, as he watched the whole scene unfold through his own eyes, was how he could actually _taste_ Loki’s come in his mouth as though it had just happened. And to add insult to injury, his cock was straining against his jeans again, as it did every time he remembered one of their fuck sessions. Ever since he had unlocked his memories, he had not been able to jack off without thinking of Loki – of his tight and talented ass muscles; of his smooth, pale skin; of the way he wrapped his long legs around Clint’s waist to pull him further into his body; and, especially, of the beatific and completely genuine smile of pleasure that lit up his face when he climaxed. When Loki had once asked him what position he preferred, Clint’s answer had been immediate and unwavering: _“On top, with you on your back, so I can see your face when you come.”_

Clint sighed and undid his fly to give his cramped cock some space. As he gripped it with his roughened palms, he swore and cursed Loki with every invective in his colorful arsenal. Then he called up the memory of a particularly satisfying fuck when Loki had cried out his name over and over while twitching and shuddering his release for an impossibly long time. Feeling the remembered tightness of Loki’s ass around his cock, Clint began stroking it in time to his previous thrusts. 


	4. Thor Visits Loki

“Loki,” a familiar voice called, but Loki was too tired to respond. He was too tired to even tell the owner of the voice to go away. He simply lay, unmoving, in his quiet cocoon, hoping that he would be left alone.

“Loki!” the voice called more insistently. It was Thor. Loki knew his brother would not give up, but although there was a part of his rational mind telling him that it would be better to answer the thunder god and get whatever Thor’s business was over with, his limbs simply refused to comply. And the rest of his mind only wanted to sleep, to do nothing, to feel nothing – for to feel was to be in pain.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor had been asked by Frigga two days before to check on Loki, but he had put it off with the excuse that he was still needed on Vanaheim, though most of the marauders had already been rounded up. He had tarried, assisting the Vanir in constructing temporary shelters for those who had lost their homes, until Frigga had found him again and insisted that he accompany the next group of prisoners back to Asgard so he could look in on his brother.

“I worry about him, Thor,” she had confessed. “I see a dark cloud over him in my mind, and I fear it will consume him.”

“If there is a cloud cast over him, it is likely of his own making,” Thor had retorted. He felt immediately guilty for saying so, however, when his mother arched one eyebrow.

“Are you sure it is not the storm cloud of your wrath he is under?” Her piercing gaze made Thor falter in his response. “He had discovered the truth of his parentage just before you were sent to Midgard, and yet he slew Laufey, his own birth father, to protect Odin. I do not know what words were exchanged at the Bifröst, but I can imagine what utter despair must have driven him to release his hold on life. And then when we found him alive at last, rather than welcoming him back as a long-lost son, your father – and you – assumed his purposes to be evil and challenged him as a traitor!”

“His purposes _were_ evil, Mother,” Thor protested, “and he was found in league with evil creatures!”

“Yes, but did it ever cross your mind that he might have been _coerced_ into helping them?” The angry flash in Frigga’s eyes had silenced Thor. “He was alone and adrift in a tear in the universe when they found him – what other recourse did he have but to throw in his lot with them? Oh, he is too proud to admit it now, even to me, but if he had refused to do as they say, what chance do you think he would have had to survive? Answer me that, my son, before you judge your brother too harshly.”

Thor had hung his head, ashamed to realize that he had not even thought of Loki’s situation in such a light.

“It wears on his soul to be confined like a caged animal,” Frigga had continued after a pause. “Put yourself in his place, Thor. Is that not what I have always taught you to do? To think of how others are feeling? And despite his outward defiance and... seeming hatred towards you and your father, I know he would appreciate a visit from you. Talk to him, Thor. Let him know that he is still your brother. For I believe all his destructive behavior has stemmed from the hurts he has received. Think of the sadness you would feel if... if I told you I am not your mother.”

Thor nodded, his gaze still cast down, so he did not notice how Frigga had suddenly grown pale.

“See that he has everything he needs,” she implored him again. “A few books to pass the time, news of what has happened here... His mind needs activity, even more than his body.”

“I will do what I can for him,” Thor had promised.

 

* * *

 

Now as he beheld the small, rumpled mound of sheets on the bed, he could not comprehend that his brother was hidden under them; yet the guards insisted that it was so.

“He has not eaten for days,” the chief guard fearfully informed Thor, knowing how inseparable the brothers used to be. “We tried replacing his rations at first, but it seemed to do no good, and he could keep down less each day. We offered to call the healers, but he refused, saying they would not help him while the All-Father wanted him dead. We did not know what to do... I had just consulted the chief of the night guard and we had thought to inform the King himself if his condition did not improve by mid-day tomorrow.”

Thor considered what the man told him while observing the pile of white linens. Loki had not so much as twitched the entire time since Thor had arrived and repeatedly called his name. It had to be a trap. Thor sighed, for he was weary of playing these games with the trickster, but he had given his word to Frigga to help Loki.

“Lower the barrier for only a moment – just enough to let me in – and be alert in case he tries to escape. This could all be a ruse to get out of his cell,” Thor warned the guards in an undertone. Then he stepped up to the barrier, nodded once, and walked into the cell the moment the barrier was dropped. It was raised as soon as his cape had cleared the threshold.

“Loki?” he called again, quietly, trying to keep his tone neutral. “The guards tell me you are ill.”

Receiving no response, he drew near the bed, expecting his brother to startle him at any second. The deathly quiet and stillness was beginning to make him nervous; he would have much preferred to have Loki rear up at him with a snarl, even with a makeshift weapon in his hand, but Loki did no such thing. When Thor was finally close enough, he grabbed an edge of the sheet and yanked it off. It resisted for a moment from the weight of Loki’s body, then gave way. What was revealed under it shocked Thor into horrified silence.

Loki was curled into a fetal position, and although he was wearing the fine bedclothes Frigga had given him, they could not hide his rail-thin limbs and gaunt frame. His eyes opened slowly, looking enormous in his drawn, haggard face, as he registered Thor’s presence in the room. The recognition seemed to come too slowly as well, so unlike his usual lightning-fast wit, but what most unnerved Thor was the corpse-like pallor of his skin. He had always been fair, even pale, but now he looked like death itself.

Loki swallowed, the very effort obviously painful, and formed one word: “Thor.”

Thor dropped the sheet and scrambled to get closer to his brother, gently pressing back his shoulder to better look into his face. “Brother,” he whispered, his voice cracking in distress, “what has happened to you?”

“I’ve been poisoned,” Loki managed, his voice hoarse from all the vomiting he had done in the past twelve days.

“I’ll send for the healers,” Thor said, recovering from the initial shock. “Guards! Send for the healers – quickly! And... And tell my father that Loki is ill.”

A rasping sound, like a bark, issued from Loki’s ravaged throat. “He... He did it – he killed me. As soon as Mother left. There is no help for me, Thor. Not this time.”

Even though Thor could not comprehend what Loki meant by that, the hopelessness in his brother’s tone gripped his heart like a vise.

“Do not worry, Loki – I will not let you die. I promised Mother that I would help you in any way I could.”

“Help me...” Loki echoed, almost in a trance. His eyes grew unfocused for a moment before finding Thor with a manic intensity. “Then help me – _Brother_ – and kill me. Kill me _now!_ ” 


	5. Missing Memory

Clint had repeatedly gone over his activities of the days he was under Loki’s control, sorting and cataloging each pertinent detail until he knew the sequence of events both backwards and forwards. He had composed his report for S.H.I.E.L.D. with exacting precision in spite of the distractions of his many sexual encounters with Loki – encounters which, every time he remembered them, forced him to either jack off or suffer the consequences. Since he still had plenty of time left on medical leave, he did not often fight the urge to pleasure himself while reliving the extremely vivid memories.

However, there was one block of time that was unaccounted for: it began at the end of a rather vigorous fuck (Loki had been riding him, straddling Clint’s cock to impale himself over and over until they were both covered in sweat) and ended when Clint had started working with his hired mercenaries the next morning, fully clothed, bathed, and refreshed. There was not even a hazy hint of what had happened in the intervening hours; his memory was completely blocked, maybe erased, as though a laser had been aimed at that part of his brain to surgically remove that particular time frame.

That alone made Clint suspect Loki of hiding something from him – possibly even from the Clint who had worshiped the ground upon which Loki walked – and indicated that it would be valuable to investigate. Also, he had discovered a pattern to their fuck-fests: Loki had often plied him with questions about his fellow agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. during their post-coital pillow talk. Sated and relaxed, Clint had not held back anything (much to his shame and chagrin now), although it was doubtful he would have withheld information at any other time, either. But if the pattern held true for the missing hours of his memory, he might have divulged information then that was critical to Loki’s plans. Although Loki had since been rendered impotent, Clint felt like it was tactically necessary to learn as much as possible about their enemy. And so he had called the hypnotherapist to set up another appointment.

“How are you dealing with your recovered memories?” the man asked after Clint had settled into the comfortable reclining chair which reminded him a lot of his own.

“I’m... dealing with them,” Clint retorted, eager to get on with the task at hand.

“ _How_ are you dealing with them, exactly?”

“I... I keep going over them until I know them inside and out. That way I can focus on the relevant parts.”

“How do you deal with the pain?”

“Like I do with any pain: get through it. Shit happens – that’s life; only the weak let it stop them.”

The psychiatrist observed him thoughtfully through his glasses. “What about the sexual violation you suffered? How are you dealing with that?”

“Just fine,” Clint snapped, then realized how harsh his response sounded. “I mean... it happened. There’s nothing I can do about it now, so there’s no point in dwelling on it. And it wasn’t like he made me fuck him at gunpoint – at the time I wanted it just as much as he did. As far as getting captured by the enemy and being forced to cooperate goes, it wasn’t that bad of a deal.”

“Do you think you might have a bit of Stockholm Syndrome?”

“No,” Clint replied, too quickly. “The guy is a certified nut job. Just because we had amazing sex doesn’t mean I would ever support his trying to take over the world.”

“Of course. And just because you felt attracted to him doesn’t mean he had a right to use your body without your permission.”

“I...” Clint faltered at the other man’s choice of words. “Uh, right. Yeah.”

“Because he did, you know,” the psychiatrist continued in a gentle but persuasive tone. “You weren’t able to make decisions like you normally would – he had forced you to obey him absolutely. So even if the sex was amazing, as you said, it was a violation of your body and will for him to take advantage of you like that.”

“Well, yeah, but... it wasn’t like, you know, I didn’t want it. Hell, if I’d met him in some bar and he was coming on to me, I would’a done him in a heartbeat.” Clint surprised himself by admitting it. “He was... well, _attractive_. Hot, even. So it’s not like I got such a short end of the bargain.”

The psychiatrist nodded as though he had expected Clint’s reaction. “It’s all right, Agent – I understand. You’re not defending him at all; you’re simply trying to downplay the seriousness of what was done to you. It’s a form of denial. You’re a strong man, used to being in control, so it’s hard for you to admit that you’d lost control, even in an extreme situation like this. But I need you to trust me that it will be better for your healing process in the long run if you can admit that it _was_ a traumatic experience. In your case, your mind had consented to the sex at the time, which must make it very confusing.”

“I... I guess so,” Clint replied, although he was still unconvinced. “But then, what does it say about me that if Loki showed up here again – without attempting to achieve world domination, of course – and just wanted to have mind-blowing sex, I would probably agree to it?”

The older man considered it for a minute before answering. “I would have to say, you feel more than a passing attraction for him, and even though you don’t agree with his ideology, at some level you respect him as a human being. Of course he’s not really _Human_ , but you must have seen something about his nature to compel you to accept him as a worthy lover. Perhaps you admire his strength? Or his determination, however misguided?”

Clint allowed himself a short laugh. “Yeah, that must be it. Because as crazy and egotistical as his plans were, he sure knew how to make things happen. He got the job done, too, and with style. He really wasn’t as strong as he let on, or we wouldn’t have been able to beat him, but he did have brass balls.”

The psychiatrist smiled. “And that is a quality you admire – something you strive for yourself.”

“Yeah. You could say that.” Clint grinned, feeling better now that some things were making more sense. “I also always strive to be thorough, Doc, so if you could put me under and get this last chunk of my memory out, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course. Let’s get started.” 


	6. Loki's Secret

“Five... Four... Three... Two... One,” the therapist’s voice quietly counted. “Where are you now?”

“In bed. In our hideout.” Clint’s responses were clipped and succinct as he answered through his hypnosis.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching Loki sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s beautiful.”

_He really is beautiful to Clint’s observing eyes. The lines of Loki’s face are softened by sleep, framed by his hair fanning out on the pillow, as his lips curve gracefully with the hint of a smile. The demigod had collapsed, sated and exhausted, after riding Clint’s erection for the better part of an hour. Clint is drowsy, too, but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off his lover’s face. He is tempted to take the curled ends of Loki’s hair into his fingers._

“How are you feeling?” the therapist’s voice prodded.

“Relaxed. Comfortable. Happy,” Clint answered without hesitation, then added, “Possessive. Protective. I want to wake Loki up for a kiss, but I don’t want to wake him up.”

_Those lips that could smirk so sensuously are beckoning to him, but Clint resists the urge. His role is to please Loki, not himself._

“So what happens?”

“I try to pull him closer without waking him.”

_Despite being Clint’s master, the taller man prefers to sleep curled up next to the Human’s body like a cat, resting his head on the archer’s thick chest. Knowing this, Clint attempts to draw him into his rightful position, for he also enjoys the physical contact. Loki’s smooth skin feels like silk, and if his body temperature is somewhat lower than the norm, Clint does not notice it in the fever of their passion. But as Loki’s cheek rubs against Clint’s bicep, the demigod stirs and murmurs one devastating word:_

_“Thor...”_

_Clint freezes. He knows well the hulking man owning that name, for he had watched him tear through a squadron of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents like they were insects. He had also watched all the footage available of the surreal fight between Thor and the Destroyer. He knows Thor and Loki are brothers; he is even aware that Thor was generally considered to be the_ good _brother. But he had thought them to be bitter enemies. The gentle, almost loving tone with which Loki has just breathed that name makes Clint pause his movements in shock – and a moment later he is filled with burning envy. Why was Loki calling out his brother’s name in his post-coital dreams? Why was it not “Clint!” as Loki so often cried out in the throes of ecstasy?_

_Shifting uneasily, Clint resumes his efforts to draw his lover closer. It must have been a mistake, of course – he must have misheard Loki’s mumblings or misinterpreted his tone. Perhaps the god was having a dream about conquering his hated older brother and gloating over him in victory. Reassuring himself with that thought, Clint presses a kiss to Loki’s forehead while cradling him tenderly in his arms. Loki inhales as though awakening and murmurs again, this time in an unmistakably sultry and seductive voice:_

_“Give me a_ proper _kiss, Brother.”_

_Clint’s heart stops. Then it begins thudding painfully. There is no denying or explaining away what he has just heard. In fact Loki had demanded the same thing of him on more than one occasion, though with a more appropriate appellation. Swallowing, Clint releases his hold on the other man and clenches his fists. Rage and jealousy tear through his chest but he cannot take it out on Loki. He finally manages to extricate his limbs from Loki’s and rolls over to the edge of the bed, where he sits up and stares at nothing._

_After a while, Loki stirs, missing his lover’s warmth, and rouses himself._

_“What is the matter, my dearest?” he asks. “Come back to bed.”_

_Clint struggles, unsure whether questioning Loki would be treason or not. But he needs answers, so he carefully says, “A moment ago, you called me your brother.”_

_There is only the briefest pause before Loki answers with calculated carelessness, “Well, of course – we are brothers in arms, are we not?”_

_The deception makes Clint’s rage burn hotter, but he is still unable to direct it at Loki._

_“You called me_ ‘Thor.’ _”_

_The pause this time is longer, more significant. It is only broken when Loki sighs and sits up. He moves close to Clint and tentatively places his slender fingers upon the archer’s well-defined shoulders._

_“I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his quiet words is palpable. “I must have been dreaming of... well... when I was much younger.”_

_“You_ slept _with him?” Clint asks, incredulous. He wants to hear Loki deny it, to give some reason why it was not what it seemed. His blood runs cold when he is disappointed._

 _“Yes,” Loki answers heavily. “Although we are not related at all, at the time we did not know it. When Thor began to suffer his manly urges, I was little more than a child – naïve enough to believe him when he said he loved me, though in reality I was only convenient. But I let him use me. I would have done... absolutely_ anything _for him then.”_

 _Clint cannot hide his horror, nor does he try to. He turns to face Loki, half-formed words ready to flow from his lips, but the haunted look in his lover’s eyes stop them cold. He has never seen the demigod seem so vulnerable, so..._ fragile _. He wants to embrace Loki and promise to protect him from everything and everyone – even his powerful brother – but Loki is not done speaking, so Clint listens, as is his duty._

_“It did not last long. I hid us with my magic, but my spells tended to fall apart when I reached my release. A few months after we had started meeting in hidden corners of the palace, Heimdall saw us coupling and told the All-Father, who strictly forbade us from engaging in such activities again. Thor, like a good son, was willing to obey – after all, he soon found that any tavern wench or scullery maid would succumb to his crude advances! But I... I had no desire for women... and other men despised me for not being a mindless warrior like my brother... so I was left with nothing but memories and longings for what I could not have.”_

_Loki purses his lips and casts his eyes down, letting his hands slip from Clint’s back. Clint seizes this moment to gather his lover into his arms, clambering onto the bed and making Loki sit upon his thighs._

_“I would kill him for you if I could,” he whispers fiercely into Loki’s ear, his arms wrapped tightly around the other man. “He should not have abused you – his own brother! – when you were so young. He deserves to die in the most painful, humiliating, dishonorable way possible!”_

_“Oh, my fierce Hawk,” Loki says as another sigh, perhaps of resignation, slips past his lips. “How it soothes my soul to hear you... and torments it as well. For I still desire my erstwhile brother... as perverse as that may be. There was none other who had cared for me as well... until I met you, my dearest.”_

_Clint is mesmerized when Loki’s green eyes seek out his own, captivating him with unspeakable tenderness and also sadness. The god’s cool fingers stroke a delicate line down Clint’s rugged cheek, sending tendrils of emotion curling down into his chest._

_“You make me happy... in ways my brother never could,” Loki tells him. “I know you will never betray me or leave me, and as long as you are with me, I am yours – heart, soul, and body. Do with it what you will.”_

_“My master... and my god,” Clint says fervently between placing kisses on Loki’s throat, tasting that smooth, flawless skin as though it were ambrosia. “I love you!”_

_Loki starts at the impulsive declaration, then begins to tremble. Before Clint can finish adoring his neck, the god of lies and mischief is weeping like a child in his arms._

_“Have I done something wrong, Sir?” Clint asks anxiously._

_“No... No, of course not! You are my..._ perfect _lover,” Loki gasps out between wracking sobs. “Hold me!”_

_Clint obeys the command well, since there is nothing else he would rather do. When Loki grows calm, they make love again – Loki watching with red-rimmed eyes as Clint moves above him, thrusting slowly and deliberately into his body, a long leg held up in each arm – then they fall into peaceful slumber together._

_In the morning they relieve their need by sliding their naked cocks against each other, Clint setting the pace for this as well. They shower, Clint washing his lover with care and attentiveness, before they eat a hasty breakfast. As Clint prepares to command his men for the day’s tasks, Loki leans in to kiss him on the mouth and places the point of his scepter on Clint’s chest._

_“I’m sorry you won’t remember any of this,” Loki says with a sad smile._

_“Why, Sir? What have I done wrong?” Clint asks, somewhat panicked and confused._

_“Nothing, my dearest Hawk. But even though you will never betray me, some truths are too dangerous to be left guarded only by a mortal mind.” He kisses Clint again – a soft, lingering kiss. “I’m sorry, my love. But I will treasure your words for as long as I live.”_

_The scepter flashes a brilliant blue, and the next thing Clint remembers is walking into a room filled with his mercenaries. He knows exactly what to do, so the gap in his memory does not trouble him._  


	7. Loki's Problem

When Thor flatly refused to kill Loki, assuring him that the healers would make him well again, Loki wished he still had the strength to berate his brother for being such an obstinate fool. But since he did not, Loki merely whispered, “Mother,” and Thor shouted for the guards to send word immediately to Frigga on Vanaheim. Loki was certain that he would not live for much longer; he wanted to see the queen’s kind face one last time before he succumbed to the inevitable. He allowed his eyes to drift shut, only to have Thor shake him (rather roughly) awake. At any other time, the panicked look on his brother’s face would have been gratifying, but right now he was too exhausted to feel much of anything.

“Stay with me, Loki,” Thor kept repeating. “Stay with me, Brother. You will get through this!”

Two healers arrived and were let into the cell. The woman, a chief healer whom Loki vaguely recognized, asked him to lie on his back. As Loki struggled to comply, his body aching and protesting the movement, Thor carefully lent his aid and continued to hold Loki’s limp hand even after he had been repositioned. When she finished a cursory check of his condition, the healer had her assistant start an infusion of nutrient-laden fluids into Loki’s veins while she scanned his body with more intricate measures.

“What is wrong with him?” Thor demanded, although it was much too early for answers. “Has he been poisoned?”

“That is certainly a possibility,” the healer said without turning her attention from the image of Loki’s circulatory system.

“Venom.” Loki’s voice was so faint that Thor had almost missed it. The healer, however, had not, and she turned a shrewd look upon her patient.

“That would be harder to trace, of course. We will search for it thoroughly.”

Loki made a sound that might have been a grunt of affirmation or a snort of derision – Thor could not be sure. It worried him to hear Loki’s labored breathing and slight flinches of pain, but as the infusion began to saturate his body, he could see some color returning to his brother’s skin. Loki was still pale but at least not deathly so.

“What is the matter?” came the commanding voice of Odin from outside the cell. “Has he tricked you all into believing he is ill?”

“This is no trick, Father!” Thor protested. “He has been poisoned. We must find the culprit at once!”

Odin questioned the chief healer with a glance.

“It is possible. We have not yet determined the cause, but he was severely dehydrated and malnourished when we arrived,” she reported.

Loki cleared his throat, the effort costing him what little color had returned to his cheeks, but he managed to string together a sentence: “The spiked rock serpent of Haldos has venom that causes nausea, abdominal cramping, and painful swelling of the joints.” He turned to look Odin in the eye, his expression baleful and accusing, as he added, “There is no antidote.”

“No!” Thor gasped, looking to the healer for confirmation. Her grim countenance made his heart falter.

“That is consistent with his symptoms. We will look for it, as well as other poisons that would cause them.”

Loki turned his gaze back up to the ceiling with a sardonic grin that was more a grimace.

_“As if they would actually find it when Odin himself has ordered its use... and has come to see his handiwork completed...”_

Before he wallowed in his misery much longer, however, there was a flurry of activity at the end of the hallway. Frigga came rushing down the stairs, several soldiers trailing behind in a vain attempt to overtake her. Odin, not having realized that Thor had sent her word, stepped forward to greet her but was met instead by her cold fury.

“My child is dying and you would keep me from going to him?!” she demanded, not breaking her stride as she approached the cell. Although he had intended no such hindrance, Odin wisely held his tongue while she brushed past him. The guard at the controls for the shield nearly became the next object of her wrath when he fumbled to lower the barrier. She strode in and bent over Loki, concern etching the few lines in her face deeper as she took his free hand and studied the healer’s projection of his digestive tract. “Don’t worry, my dearest,” she murmured near Loki’s ear. “We will find the cause of this, I promise. I will not let you suffer any longer.”

She ordered some herbs to ease his pain and stroked his pallid cheek, all the while observing the chief healer’s progress. Loki gazed up at her silently, his lips pulled into a tight, thin line. The infusion was doing its work, helping him regain some strength, so the next time Frigga turned to him he whispered a plea.

“Please, Mother... let me go. Whether to the halls of Valhalla or Hel, I do not know, but I beg you to release me from this torment.”

“Loki! Dearest, you speak foolishly – of course you will go to Valhalla when you die, but that day is not yet come. You will recover, my child, once the healers find the source of your illness.”

“Venom,” Loki repeated, the word coming out as a tired sigh. “Haldosian rock serpent.”

Frigga blanched. She knew there was no antidote for that. Her piercing gaze, directed at the healer, was only half hopeful of finding denial. The healer gave what answer she could.

“We have not found any traces of it... yet. It is a notoriously difficult toxin to find in a body.”

“The symptoms... do they fit?” Frigga asked, her voice brittle.

“Of course they fit,” Loki spouted out, with almost a laugh. “I’ve had a long time... to consider the matter. It’s the only cause... that fits so perfectly.”

“But Loki,” Frigga said, combing his tumbled hair back from his forehead, “you were hale and well when I last saw you! Even such a venom would not explain how thin you have become in so short a time.” She pressed her trembling lips together for a moment, stroking her son’s emaciated arm.

“I know. Perhaps a parasite.” Loki drew another labored breath before continuing, “The Numorsian wyrm has minute larvae that feed upon its host... causing nausea until the host can no longer feed itself... but the larvae grow by absorbing nutrients from its living flesh. They attach themselves to the lining of the small intestine,” he added for the benefit of the healers. The chief healer looked insulted, as well she might, but wordlessly magnified the projection of his small intestine.

“Wait, so... you think you were both poisoned _and_ infected?” Thor asked, his brows furrowed in outrage.

“Those two combined... would bring about these symptoms... very nicely,” Loki stated, his attempt at sarcasm falling flat. “And if either one failed, the other would suffice... to finish the job.” He turned his head slightly to see Odin’s reaction, but the All-Father did not so much as twitch a muscle. Frigga, however, saw where Loki’s gaze had fallen.

“For shame, Loki! Do you truly think your father would wish to kill you? Do you really think so meanly of us?” she scolded. “If your king had wanted you dead, you would not be in this cell at all but already executed and sent to the next realm!”

Loki’s expression was resigned, as though he knew the truth of the matter but also realized that he could make no one else comprehend it. Frigga was furious, but she contented herself with straightening Loki’s nightshirt, while Thor glanced in horror at his father, then back at his brother.

“We’ve found something,” the chief healer announced, interrupting the tense silence. She magnified the discovered object’s projection even further, revealing a creature with a large, bulbous head and enormous eyes, ill-formed limbs, and what seemed to be a tail curled around its bottom.

Frigga gasped as she studied it. “This is no parasite,” she cried. “This is a _child!_ ” 


	8. Natasha Visits Clint

Clint had been cleaning his apartment with a vengeance ever since his last hypnotherapy session. He needed to focus his energy on something productive before the roiling morass of his emotions burst out with destructive force. He was angry at Thor for what he had done to Loki; angry at Odin for allowing such a thing to happen under his supposedly watchful eye; and angry at Loki (now that he was free to be) for still yearning for his brother who had taken advantage of him.

He was also saddened to find out the truth behind Loki’s motives, for he now realized that his former captor had been seeking recognition and power as a substitute for love. Loki had attempted to control Clint, and others, to ensure that none of them would reject him, abandon him, and leave him with gaping emotional wounds like Thor had before; he had also sought fame (or notoriety) to bolster his damaged self-confidence. The fact that the seemingly callous demigod had broken down in tears at the mere whisper of love told Clint how desperately lonely Loki must have been – and must still be, alone in his prison cell with no one to visit him or cast a kind word on him.

 _“If he’d had someone to love him – really_ love _him – he wouldn’t have had to do all those things. He wouldn’t have had to prove his self-worth if someone else had affirmed it for him.”_

Clint set the last of the trash bags outside his apartment door, holding it steady to balance it on top of the pile of others. He’d been haunted by the vivid memory of Loki sobbing and trembling in his arms, which replayed itself at odd moments until he could almost feel Loki’s slender body against his own again.

 _“He was so grateful to be loved, even by the mindless robot he’d turned me into,”_ Clint thought to himself, heaving a sigh. He ached to think of Loki’s isolation, both then and now. _“So grateful that he let all his feelings out, then had to erase my memory of them, even though he knew I would never betray him.”_

Taking a step back to survey the small army of garbage bags now lined up in the hallway, Clint had an epiphany.

 _“No – he wasn’t crying because he was happy to be loved by an automaton; he was crying because the_ only _person who loved him was an automaton!”_

Stricken, Clint continued to stare at the bags while he recalled Loki’s every look and gesture that night.

 _“He was miserable... knowing that nobody would love him of their own free will... After all, how pathetic is that?_ That’s _why he erased my memory – because he was too proud to let me know. He couldn’t stand to let anybody know how pathetic and lonely he really was... how unlovable he must have felt...”_

Clint could relate to loneliness. He could relate, all too painfully, to being rejected. And he could practically taste Loki’s pain at having nobody else to rely on. Clint had survived and made his own way until he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D., which had given him a purpose and a sense of belonging. Loki had found his own purpose in trying to subjugate an entire planet; he had created his own safe circle of friends – his family, of sorts – by brainwashing a select few of his slaves. Despite their differences, Clint realized, they were both survivors; they had both striven to procure what they needed in order to live.

He was interrupted from his musings by light footsteps coming up the stairs. He recognized them at once and had barely turned to see her before the words, “Hey, Tasha,” left his lips.

“Clint,” she responded, eyeing him cautiously. “How are you doing?”

“All right,” he said with a shrug. “Just getting caught up on some spring cleaning. From like, the last five years or so.”

“No kidding.” Natasha waited for a moment before asking, “So... how did it go?”

“It worked. I remember everything now.” Clint grimaced. “Why don’t you come in? I just stocked up on some beer.”

She followed him into the apartment and took a look around. “Wow. I’ve never seen this place so clean.”

“Amazing what some forced time off can do,” Clint said blandly while pulling two bottles out of the fridge. Natasha sat on the couch and accepted hers, then Clint sat in his reclining chair. They sipped at their drinks silently for a while.

“You were right, you know,” he began. “Now that I remember stuff, I can’t _un-_ remember it. But it’s okay. I’d rather live with my regrets than with not knowing.”

She nodded. “How are you doing with the regrets?”

Clint made a face. “About as good as you can expect, I guess. The past is the past. I just have to move on.”

“Yeah. Not like you can change anything now.”

“Exactly.” Clint took another swig of beer before confessing, “What bothers me more is what I _don’t_ regret.”

Natasha studied his face. “What do you mean?”

Clint swallowed and stared at the floor. “There’s no easy way to say this...” He took another drink, wishing it were something stronger. “When I was being mind-controlled by Loki, I... well, _we_... we were actually—”

“Oh _God!_ ” Natasha burst out, intuitively sensing what he was trying to say. “You don’t mean to tell me...?!”

“’Fraid so.”

“With _Loki?!_ ”

“Yeah.”

“And... that’s the part you _don’t_ regret?”

“Yeah.” Clint wondered whether it was a blessing or a curse to have a friend so perceptive. “Crazy, right?”

“Yeah. Crazy.” The stunned look on her face said it all.

“Look, it’s nothing personal,” Clint tried to explain. “I had my loyalty switch turned 180 degrees around so that everything he said sounded like gospel truth. I probably would’ve given up my own mother – if I had one. So when he told me to sleep with him, I... I didn’t refuse.”

“And you don’t regret it.” Natasha’s voice was flat, lifeless.

“I don’t,” Clint confirmed. “It was... well, _he_ was... amazing. And now that I remember everything – and there was stuff I had to dig deep to get at – I understand him. I’m not excusing what he did or anything, but... there are some very good reasons why he turned out the way he did.” Clint sighed. “I just wish I’d known them while I was with him... because I would have done some things differently.”

“Like what?” she asked, although she was too shocked to be genuinely interested in his response.

“Like laughing at the gag Thor put on him before taking him home.” Clint’s eyes were remorseful as the event replayed itself in his mind. “He noticed that we were making fun of him... and his shoulders sagged. In all the time I knew him, that was the first time he looked really... _defeated_. He could handle losing – he’d probably lost fights with his brother any number of times before – but being mocked... that hurt. Sure, he must’ve been hurt before, but... you don’t get over being hurt. Not easily, anyway.”

Natasha observed her former partner’s expression. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really... _care_ about Loki.”

Clint nodded. “I know what you’re thinking: classic Stockholm Syndrome, right? And maybe that’s a part of it, but what really changed my mind about him was the memory he’d suppressed even while I was under his control. He didn’t want me to know, even then, how lonely he was. And it just makes me wonder... if someone had cared about him – really _cared_ about him – how different of a person he might have been.”

“Wow.” It was all Natasha could manage to say.

“Yeah. Crazy.” Clint finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the coffee table.

“So... what now?” Natasha asked after a few minutes. Clint shrugged again.

“Nothing. He’s locked up in a prison cell in Asgard for all eternity, as far as we’re concerned. So I just have to move on.”

“You okay with that?”

Clint considered the question.

“No. Not really.”

Natasha nodded and took another sip of beer. She didn’t want it anymore, but it gave her something to do.

“Tell Fury,” Clint finally said, “I’m as ready for duty as I’ll ever be. A bit worse for wear, but I want to get back to work. I need something to do. And my apartment’s as clean as I can get it.”

Natasha stood to leave. “I’ll let him know. Thanks for the drink,” she said, then went to the small kitchen to dump the remaining three-quarters of the beer in the sink. Before stepping out the apartment door, she turned to ask one last question – even though she was pretty confident that she already knew the answer.

“Clint... do you think you love him?”

“Yeah,” the answer floated back to her from the reclining chair. “It’s the big ‘L’ – always makes things so damn difficult.”

Natasha closed the door quietly, then fled back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. 


	9. Loki Struggles

“ _What?!_ ” Loki shrieked, his voice an octave higher than normal. “A... A _child?_ B-But that’s _impossible!_ ” He looked wildly back and forth between his mother and the healer. Both women were scrutinizing the projected image and, apparently, coming to the same conclusion. “How can there be a _child_ in me?” Loki continued, his breathing turning ragged as his heart rate (visible as throbbing in the projected arteries) sped up. “It’s just not possible! _Is_ it?!”

Frigga pursed her lips for a moment before answering quietly, “Loki, dearest... we know very little about Jötun physiology. It may very well be that all Jötun males carry their young, or perhaps a select few are able to when certain conditions are met.”

The chief healer was startled to hear the Queen’s explanation, but she remembered her place and continued examining her find. “The fetus is suspended in a sac filled with fluid, which is being fed by the bloodstream near the main intestinal tract,” she informed them. “It seems to be functioning as a womb. From the size of the fetus, it must have been growing for some time – perhaps two months or so – and appears to be doing well.”

“Two months,” Loki murmured to himself. It was now just over two months since he had been captured and brought back in chains to Asgard. He swallowed hard, then immediately regretted it, as the infusion had replenished the fluids in his body. Wrenching his hand out of Frigga’s grasp, he rolled onto his side and heaved over the edge of the bed. Green bile spewed from his mouth, spattering Thor’s boots and making the thunder god turn almost as green as the phlegm; to his credit, however, Thor only grabbed a handful of Loki’s hair to keep it out of the way. Once Loki had finished emptying his already starved stomach, he curled back into himself, lying on his side, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“This can’t be happening... This can’t be happening...” he mumbled, like a mantra, as though that would dispel everything as a bad dream. While he lay still, the healer reconstructed the projection of his internal organs.

“Here,” she pointed, indicating two small, elliptical lumps attached to either corner of the transverse colon. “These look like ovaries. They do not exist in Æsir males, at least.”

“Do they seem to be well formed?” Frigga asked.

“Yes. They are proportional and symmetrical.”

“So perhaps they are a natural, normal part of his anatomy.” Frigga combed her fingers through Loki’s hair as he continued to repeat his phrase under his breath. “Loki... Loki, my darling, do you know who the father is?” she prodded. “It may help us to know... what races the child is comprised of.”

Loki ceased his mumbling and stared unblinkingly at the space before his eyes.

“Clint Barton,” was his stoic answer after an agonized silence. “A Midgardian soldier... a _mortal_.”

He spat out the last word. As though it were not humiliating enough to be found pregnant with another man’s child, to admit that said other man was a mere mortal was... mortifying.

After a minute to absorb the shock – both of his brother’s condition and the person who had partially caused it – Thor recovered and cleared his throat. “He is a good man, a skilled archer,” he said for Frigga’s benefit. “He fought well to defend his world once he was freed from Loki’s control over his mind. But, Loki... if this child was conceived while Barton’s allegiance was coerced... you have more transgressions to pay for than we had already supposed.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Loki retorted without moving or looking up at Thor. “He _wanted_ it. I would not have bent his will to mine on such a matter.” His voice had died down to a whisper by the end so that Thor could hardly catch what he said. Frigga continued to stroke his hair in an effort to give him what comfort she could.

“If the child is half Midgardian, at least we have some idea what to expect,” she said to the healers. “We must research all the information we have on the Jötun race for the rest. I can supply the rate of growth for a Jötun child after it is born, for I recorded every detail of Loki’s development. And we know that the Frost Giants’ children are not always as large in comparison to us as their adult counterparts.”

Loki gave up a small, wordless cry of dismay and turned to his mother.

“How in Hel am I supposed to _birth_ it?” he asked, panic seizing him.

“We will find out, my dear,” Frigga soothed, patting his cheek. “There is plenty of time before the child will be born. We will know enough by then to keep both of you safe. Do not worry.”

 

* * *

 

It took three whole days for Loki to regain the weight he had lost, but the healers were finally able to make him comfortable by siphoning off the green bile that accumulated in his stomach – a byproduct of his body changing to accommodate the child – at regular intervals. He still had no appetite, but he was at least able to keep down what he ingested.

Frigga had insisted on placing drapes around his cell for privacy, realizing that his condition would soon become noticeable to the other inmates. Odin’s injunction against visiting her younger son was cast aside with scorn; she would not let anything come between her and her child when her _grandchild’s_ wellbeing was at stake. After the initial shock had worn off and Loki had gazed at the creature growing within his belly often enough to admit that it really _was_ a child, he expressed some doubts as to whether it should be allowed to live.

“Loki!” Frigga scolded. “This child is a _gift!_ Look at how his heart beats in his tiny breast – how perfectly his fingers and toes are forming! Do you not feel _any_ sense of care for this new life, which is not only a part of you now but also a piece of you that will take on its own life and destiny?”

“You mistake me, Mother, if you think I said so for my own selfish reasons,” Loki replied with unwonted sobriety. “I only know what this child will have to endure if it lives. I know what ridicule and suspicion will dog its steps, just for the fact that it is _mine_ – let alone half Jötun! It is half monster, half mortal... born into a land of gods. How can it even _begin_ to find happiness? It is the only one of its kind, and I, its only parent, an outcast condemned to this prison. What sort of existence can it hope to have?”

“You do not give our people enough credit,” Frigga insisted, although her eyes were saddened as well. “No child is responsible for its own parentage. And I give you my word that I will care for him as I did for you. Is that not enough?”

A faint smile flitted across Loki’s lips. “He, or she, will have the best mother in all the Nine Realms. That is more than enough, and I thank you. But I... I worry for what may be in its future.”

“Then you have truly become a parent,” Frigga said gently.

A looming shadow fell upon the white curtains before the barrier was lowered for Thor to enter the chamber.

“You are looking better, Brother,” he observed with relief.

“I will not besmirch your shoes again soon, I don’t think,” Loki said dryly, “although I would give anything to have seen your face when I did.”

Frigga patted the edge of the bed next to where she sat, and Thor settled there, taking care not to jostle Loki.

“Now that you are well again, there is a matter I wished to speak to you about,” Thor began.

Loki paled, thinking his brother might bring up the brief and forbidden dalliance of their youth. Though he loved his mother dearly and trusted her implicitly, Loki had never confided in her about it, and he did not intend to now. But he need not have worried.

“How are you going to tell Clint Barton?” Thor asked. 


	10. Thor's Plan

“Tell him what, exactly?” Loki asked in return, his tone dripping with sarcasm and condescension. “That he has fathered a half-monster child with me while under my command?”

“Yes, if that is what you consider the truth,” Thor replied, the pulsing vein in his forehead belying his calm words. “But the child appears to be growing normally, so there is no need to call it a monster. It does not deserve such derision... let alone from its _mother_.”

Loki flinched at the last word and responded before Frigga could intervene. “And what, pray tell, dear _Brother_ , is _normal_ for a Jötun half-breed? Four arms and two tails? Fangs as long as an elgroch’s tusks? What may seem ‘normal’ to your Æsir eyes may be a hideous deformity for the Jötun – after all, they have males that carry children!” Loki’s sharp laugh bordered on hysteria. “For all we know, the Asgardian _air_ may be lethal to this creature. And it may never grow to a size that it can be born – however _that_ is supposed to happen! Or it may simply claw its way out of my body, tearing through my entrails, and go on to devour all the Nine Realms entire. So until we know if this child will live and, if it does, if it should be allowed to do so, what is there exactly to _tell_ Clint Barton?”

Frigga had grasped Loki’s hands as he flung himself into his tirade, and now she pulled on them to direct Loki’s attention to herself.

“Oh, dearest... you do care deeply for this child, don’t you?” she said with compassion filling her eyes. “You fear that it will not live. I promise you, even if the air itself threatens to harm it, I will do everything in my power to save it. You know I will.”

Loki swallowed and bowed his head, acknowledging her statement. His ire seemed to have deflated completely.

“I still think,” Thor resumed after a moment, “that he ought to be told. Were I in his place, I would want to know. The child has been growing without mishap all this time, despite your grave illness, so I would consider its constitution to be hardier than most.”

Loki sighed. “And what do you expect the Human to do with this news? Rejoice? He _hates_ me. Once freed from my spell, he tried immediately to kill me. How, then, do you think he will react to learning that he has a _child_ with me? Besides, he is a mortal whose life, at best, will span a hundred years. This child may live as long as the Jötun, or half as much, or only as long as a Midgardian. Its powers may also reflect its Jötun heritage, whether in full or in part, or it may be as weak as any Human. Do you honestly intend to ask Clint Barton to be a father to a creature whose very essence is as yet unknown and may continue to be unpredictable? What if the child comes into its magic suddenly and decides to throw a tantrum at that moment – what would become of its Human father? No. It is only prudent to keep the child here in Asgard, where it can be contained if necessary; but exposing a mortal to it, or allowing it to visit Midgard, would be folly.”

Having observed Loki’s face as he spoke, Frigga realized that he had given the matter much thought already.

“This Clint Barton,” she said, enunciating the foreign name with care, “you care for him, don’t you?”

The flush that spread across Loki’s pale face was all the answer she needed; it caught Thor by surprise.

“He was a useful soldier, nothing more,” Loki lamely replied.

“Tell me more about him,” she insisted, if anything as gentle as her voice could be said to insist.

Loki gazed down at where she was holding his hands while he spoke. “There is not much to tell... He fought with skill and heart when I first infiltrated their fortress, like any good warrior would, but since the other soldiers of Midgard were weak and cowardly, he caught my eye. I needed a decent general to achieve my purpose, so I... commandeered him. As well as the scientist, of course.”

“There must have been more to him that caught your eye than just his _courage_ if you invited him to your bed,” Frigga teased, delighting in the deep hue of red in Loki’s cheeks that betrayed him.

“He is... not unpleasing to the eye... as far as Midgardians go,” he conceded grudgingly. “But I was too occupied with my task to bother looking for a better specimen. I merely wanted to while away the short time it took to make my preparations. He was... adequate.”

“He is an honorable man, stout-hearted and true,” Thor put in, nettled by his brother’s seemingly low opinion of the agent but also feeling strangely upset at how Loki was blushing. “He deserves a better mate than one who would disparage his manliness.”

“He impregnated a Frost Giant – I would think that sufficient proof of his manliness,” Loki snapped back, irritated.

“Was he gentle with you, my dear?” Frigga asked, her eyes wide and innocent.

“Mother!” both of her sons cried in dismay. They realized their mistake when she broke into peals of laughter.

“Oh, my boys! Never fear, I shall not ask for the intimate details of your coupling – with _anyone_ ,” she demurely promised, though still stifling a chuckle. “I only wish to know what manner of man the father of my grandchild is. Loki, my dear, if he has earned an ‘adequate’ by your exacting standards, I consider him to be a very good man indeed. In fact, I should very much like to meet him.”

Loki gaped at her, stunned; before he could form any words, Thor revealed his plan.

“I have already spoken to Father about this matter, and he has agreed to let us use the Tesseract to travel to Midgard. He will give you a temporary reprieve from this cell if it is only to inform Clint Barton of your... condition. I will go with you, of course, to ensure that you do not trouble the Midgardians any further. Mother, if you wish to accompany us...?”

“I do!” she responded, a brilliant smile spreading across her features. “I have not been to Midgard in... oh, eons! And I cannot wait to meet your Clint Barton, Loki.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Mother, th-that isn’t... I-I mean, going to Midgard, of all places – it’s filthy and covered in squalor!” Loki stuttered with a stricken look.

“Of course it is, my dear. But I must thank Clint Barton in person for the gift of my first grandchild.” Frigga stood and tossed her hair back over her shoulder, as though preparing to ride. “When do we leave?”

 

* * *

 

 

When they arrived on the planet, a host of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were waiting for them. Thor had managed to contact the Midgardian agency by manipulating an archaic form of communication known as “radio,” so they had arranged to meet the Asgardians in a remote location. The usually blank-faced men surrounding them – Loki pointed out that they could hardly be considered guarding them _or_ protecting them – all seemed to grow speechless when they beheld Frigga’s beauty. It was just as well, for Loki was in a sour mood and any attempt at conversation, even by his mother, only produced more scowls. Their short journey in the armored SUV was noticeably silent.

Nick Fury met them at the entrance to an underground laboratory similar to the one where the Tesseract had been housed. His glare was softened somewhat at the appearance of Frigga, whom he greeted with courtesy, but it quickly resumed boring a hole in Loki.

“Do not fear any mischief from my brother, Commander,” Thor told him. “You see he is wearing chains – they prevent him from using magic. And even he will not do anything to endanger our mother.”

Fury nodded in acknowledgement but did not remove his gaze. “You were pretty vague in explaining _why_ you wanted to visit – not that it’s unwelcome, of course, but I fail to see why it was necessary to bring your _brother_ along. Especially since you’d assured us that he would rot in an Asgardian jail for the rest of his life.”

“There is a... matter of _personal_ interest we must discuss with Clint Barton. Is he here?” Thor asked.

“Yes, as you requested. But as his commanding officer, I hope this isn’t going to dredge up any more bad memories. It took him a while to get his head unscrambled after what Loki did to him.” The glare intensified. “I’d rather not put him through any more trauma, but it was ultimately his decision to meet with you.”

“I’m glad of that. We would not ask him to do anything that he is, uh... uncomfortable with,” Thor replied. He wondered briefly what sort of thing might be beyond Clint Barton’s threshold of tolerance if he had been willing (as Loki claimed) to sleep with his captor.

“Come this way,” Fury said, turning to lead them into the facility. 


	11. Surprise Reunion

When Clint had been notified of the strange communications from Asgard, which indicated that the envoy coming with Thor wished to meet with _him_ specifically, he wasn’t sure what to think. He had just returned to work with the understanding that he would only be given routine assignments for a while, and Fury had assured him that he did not have to comply with the Asgardians’ request; however, Clint decided at once to meet with them, hoping to hear some news of Loki. If he played his cards right and asked the right questions, all the while making them think that he wasn’t interested... he thought he might have a chance at gleaning some information about his former captor and lover.

So he was unprepared to see Loki arrive in person, his image magnified on the many screens of the command center. Clint noticed first the look of resignation wrapped around the demigod like a heavy cloak. Now that his memories had been restored, it troubled Clint to see Loki without his characteristic confidence. He also thought Loki looked gaunt and chalked it up to the trials of incarceration. Although Clint had no idea what an Asgardian prison looked like, he knew that confinement and solitude would grate upon Loki’s soul.

As the three visitors followed Fury down the halls, they were tracked by multiple security cameras. Clint noted the loose-fitting robes Loki was wearing and wondered if they were standard prison issue. Before, Loki had dressed with immaculate style, every cut and stitch enhancing his elegant physique. Clint realized those same clothes might hang loosely on him now. The hollow of Loki’s cheek was deeper; Clint’s instinctive desire was to press a kiss into it. His heart rate increased as he suddenly thought that he might – just possibly – have the chance to do so, but his excitement was suppressed by the sight of the chains on Loki’s wrists. He knew it was unlikely the trickster would be allowed anything that might afford him pleasure. Perhaps Asgardian justice had simply dictated that he apologize to his victims in person. Even so, Clint’s heart thudded with anticipation.

“Clint,” Natasha called. Her voice seemed to reach him from far away. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Actually, I do,” he said. “I have... unfinished business with him. And it seems he does too.”

Natasha nodded in understanding though she still looked confused. Knowing he could never fully explain this to her, Clint walked down the hall to the room they had set aside for the interview. Steve and Bruce were already standing in the large, brightly lit space, and Tony was just coming in through another door, having flown over the transport convoy in his latest suit as a precaution. Bruce glanced at Clint as they waited for the Asgardians to arrive.

“Any idea what this is all about?” Bruce asked mildly.

“No clue,” Clint admitted. Fury entered a moment later, leading the three visitors.

“Ah! My friends!” Thor cried with genuine pleasure, reaching out to clap Steve on the shoulder. “You did not all have to assemble on our account, but I am glad that I can present you to my mother. Mother, this is Steve, a fierce captain among most noble warriors; Bruce, whose strength surpasses that of any other mortal; Tony, a man of iron, as you see – he fashions his own armor to do wondrous things; the Lady Natasha, who rivals our own Lady Sif in combat; and Clint Barton, of whose courage and deeds you have already heard much.”

While Steve, Bruce, and Natasha nodded politely to Frigga, Tony irrepressibly took her hand and placed a kiss on her fingers. Clint, who had seen Thor do the same to Jane Foster in the surveillance footage, followed suit, much to Frigga’s delight.

“Great warriors all, to whom I owe much gratitude,” Frigga pronounced with a beaming smile.

“You honor us with your gracious presence,” Tony replied, determined to stand out as the most charming. Clint was in no position to contest him for the title, since he was preoccupied with staring at Loki – who in turn was preoccupied with staring at the floor, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

“Well, now that we’re all gathered, if you’d care to have a seat...?” Fury said with a wave of his hand. There were two long, white sofas on either side of a glass coffee table. Frigga nudged Loki to sit in the middle of one of the sofas, flanked by herself and Thor, while Clint placed himself firmly across the table from Loki, flanked by Natasha and Fury. Tony and Bruce sat in two armchairs at either end, poised to respond in case Loki was not as well subdued as Thor had promised. Maria slipped in and unobtrusively served coffee to everyone.

“So. Loki.” Clint broke the awkward silence. “I heard you wanted to see me?”

Loki tensed upon hearing Clint’s voice – for the first time since he had been hauled away in chains from Midgard – but he finally looked the other man in the eye.

“For the record,” he said, his tone haughty, “I am here against my will. This fool’s errand was planned against my advice. Were it up to me, we would not be sitting here at all.”

“Loki!” Frigga chided, making him falter, but he continued with his green eyes fixed upon Clint’s as though by sheer willpower he could force him to obey.

“However, since I am unavoidably here, I will say this: Clint Barton, if you value your life and future, do not hear the tidings the others would give you. Do not allow them to speak of it to any of your comrades. Insist that we return to Asgard at once. Of course my brother will wish to see his _woman_ before departing,” Loki added with a sneer, “but you have the right to forbid him from revealing this secret and he will be honor-bound to comply.” Loki cast his eyes down to his hands, which were clasped tightly upon his knees. “That is all.”

Clint was stunned by Loki’s words, but what struck him most was that Loki feared the news would _harm_ him – that Loki was (or at least claimed to be) concerned for Clint’s welfare. It sent a cold shiver down his spine which jangled his nerves and mixed in with the emotions already swirling in the pit of his stomach. Then he noticed Loki’s posture: how tense he was, his knuckles almost white, and how he was biting his lower lip and attempting to hide it by keeping his face turned down.

 _“He’s bracing himself for the worst,”_ flashed across Clint’s mind. Then he realized that Loki was _afraid_. Perhaps for Clint, perhaps for his own selfish reasons, but in either case he was nervously, desperately, heartrendingly afraid. _“Of what?”_ Clint wondered, feeling the first twinge of fear himself. _“What is it about this news that’s making him so scared?”_

Aloud, Clint only said, “I don’t care much for secrets – for keeping them, anyway. I even had a shrink dig around in my brain so I could remember every detail of the time you kept me under your mind control. I knew I wouldn’t like what I’d see, but... Humans are like that. We don’t like losing control and we’d rather know the truth, no matter how bad it is, than believe a bunch of lies. At least _I_ would, anyway. So I dug up all the memories you tried to hide from me. And in a way, I’m glad I did.”

Loki did not look up as he replied, “Your memories were vague and confused as a natural result of your being forcibly – and quite crudely – extracted from my spell. I did not intend to deprive you of the glorious hours you had served me, fulfilling a higher purpose than any other you will ever know in your short existence. But you may yet live to regret knowing the truth. I warn you again, do not allow the others to speak of it; but if you will not heed my counsel, so be it. I have done all that I could to spare you.”

Clint studied the shadows under Loki’s eyes and longed to touch him and hold him, to make him sleep in his arms until the darkness was replaced by the healthy glow he had seen so many mornings when they had woken in the tangle of each other’s embrace. He ached to see the sickly pallor of Loki’s skin and wondered what tortures awaited him in the prison of the gods. But right now Clint couldn’t do anything about that, so he simply said, “Tell me. Tell me everything.” 


	12. The Revelation

Loki heard Clint’s decision as though it were a death-knell. He had expected it, of course – he knew the Human would never shrink back from any threat – but it still felt like a blow from Volstagg’s battle axe. He bit his lip again and vowed to remain silent for the remainder of his stay. It would not be difficult, he thought. He only hoped it would be brief.

Since Loki refused to speak and Thor was hesitant to divulge his brother’s secret, Frigga began by explaining how Loki had been found by Odin as a baby and was actually Jötun, not Æsir. She also added how he had shown marvelous abilities as a child and exceeded their expectations in many ways. Then she noted that since Asgard had long been at enmity with Jötunheim, there were many things about Jötun physiology which remained unknown to them. Loki gripped his hands even tighter as she came to the crux of the matter.

“We are now discovering that at least in some Jötun males, female organs can coexist within their bodies, allowing both functions to be possible. Heretofore we had not even considered such an anatomy viable, but it seems there are many wonders beyond our comprehension yet in this universe.”

When she paused, Tony jumped in to ask, “Okay, that’s great – but why are you telling us all this? Why do we need a lesson in Jötun anatomy?”

“Oh, God!” Clint burst out, effectively negating Tony’s question. “You don’t mean... You can’t possibly...!”

“ _Yob_ ,” Natasha swore under her breath.

“Loki!” Clint said, ignoring everyone else. “Look at me! Is it... Are you... Damn it, Loki – _look at me!_ ”

Loki was startled when his chin was pulled up so he could not avoid facing Clint, who had leapt onto the coffee table (made of bulletproof glass) and was now crouching on it directly in front of him. He wanted to turn away, but the fierceness of Clint’s gaze prevented him from doing so. With a sinking feeling, Loki realized that the Human had deciphered the truth. Loki tasted blood as he bit his lip hard enough to break the skin.

“You are,” Clint whispered, almost numb with shock. “Oh, God... you really are...”

“Um, excuse me,” Tony interrupted, “but am I missing something here?”

“You’re not the only one,” Fury said, his eye still fixated on Loki.

“Am I correct in assuming,” Bruce began hesitantly, “that in spite of everything we assume to be true of Human – or rather, _humanoid_ anatomy... that Loki is now... _pregnant?_ ”

“What?” Steve cried, astonished. “How is that even...?” He trailed off after receiving a withering look from Tony, who had figured it out a split second after Bruce had started speaking. Steve turned back to Loki and Clint, whose eyes were still locked, and gasped, “Oh! Oh... of course,” blushing bright crimson. Natasha, by contrast, had turned ashen.

Loki felt trapped – not in a cage, but as though he were on the knife’s-edge of a precipice, balanced for now but poised to tumble into the abyss below at the slightest breath of wind. It was an all-too-familiar feeling, one he had hoped to never experience again. The only thing keeping him in check was the piercing, steely blue of Clint Barton’s eyes, and even that, Loki knew, would soon be filled with disgust and loathing, leaving him to teeter into the blackness beneath. The Human would reject him for the freakish monster he was, just as Odin had, just as Thor had, just as his own birth father had so long ago in Jötunheim. It was only a matter of time...

But suddenly Loki felt strong arms wrapping around him, pulling him close to the warmth of Clint’s chest, and lips that were both tender and fierce pressing against his own, forcing him to unclamp his teeth and give way to the tongue that _demanded_ entry there. He could not breathe, he could not think, he could not even move. He felt Clint lick the blood away tenderly from his abused lower lip. He numbly allowed himself to be held while Clint combed his hair with one hand and placed kisses in the hollow of his cheek. He stared at nothing, his eyes unable to focus, until he was given a brisk shake and made to look into Clint’s eyes again.

“You’re carrying my child – _our_ child. That’s... amazing! Unbelievable, and incredible, but... _amazing_ ,” Clint declared, his eyes still clear blue and even, to Loki’s surprise, filled with awe and delight. “I should have known, the moment I saw you wearing these baggy robes,” Clint continued, not realizing the meltdown Loki had had earlier upon finding that his impeccably tailored clothes no longer fit him. “Or at least, I should have guessed. Not that I would’ve thought you’d be _pregnant_ in a million years... But hey, does this mean you have a... a... what-do-they-call-it, a... baby bump?”

Loki swallowed hard and averted his eyes. It had taken all of Frigga’s considerable powers of persuasion to get him to wear his current outfit, which, though shapeless and unflattering, hid his belly very well, and then it had required Thor’s strong-arming to get him to come to Midgard. Loki was not yet comfortable with the changes to his body, but with a start he realized that Clint (who had a more intimate knowledge of Asgardian dress than any other Human) was beginning to unfasten the clasps of his loose tunic.

“Wh-Wha-What...?” he stuttered, his vow of silence forgotten as Clint deftly opened the front folds of his outer garment. “C-Clint!” he protested, but by then the Human had already unhooked the diagonal flap of his high-waisted trousers, revealing Loki’s slightly protruding stomach. It was soon covered, however, with the warmth of Clint’s sturdy hand.

“Hey, there,” Clint whispered, almost to himself. “So... that’s where you are. Hiding in your mama’s tummy...”

Loki was stunned when he understood that Clint was talking to the child. He was also overwhelmed by some very un-maternal emotions triggered by the sensation of Clint’s hand – which had always felt hot to Loki’s skin – touching his bare belly. That same hand had often wandered across the expanses of Loki’s body, trailing heat and desire, while they had consummated their passion. Loki was mortified to sense his manhood responding to the well-remembered touch, but before it could grow to obvious proportions, he was distracted by Clint yet again.

“Loki,” the man demanded, staring straight into the demigod’s startled green eyes, “why did you warn me not to find out about this? Why didn’t you want me to know... about _my own kid?_ ”

Loki opened his mouth to reply but could not think of anything to say. He struggled to find some words – _any_ words – but was pulled into a crushing embrace before he could succeed.

“I get it,” Clint murmured into his ear. “You thought I wouldn’t _want_ the kid, didn’t you? You thought I’d hang you out to dry, knocked up and all alone, because it happened while I was under your mind control. You thought... I’d cut and run, just like everyone else in your life has. Well, you thought _wrong_.” Clint grabbed Loki’s face in both hands and forced him to meet his gaze again. Clint’s jaw was set in a strong line of determination. “You thought _dead_ wrong, do you hear? I don’t know what sort of men you have in your world, but here on Earth a man isn’t worth his name if he won’t even take care of his own. I would never, _never_ turn my back on my own kid! I don’t care what the circumstances are, or how... _unexpected_ it might be: if the kid is mine, I won’t stand for having it raised without knowing me as its father! I have every right to raise it the way I think it should be, to teach it the things I think it ought to know. So, like it or not, Loki, you’ve got a _partner_ when it comes to raising this kid. You’re not in this thing alone. And no matter what happens, we’ll get through it _together_.”

Before Clint was even halfway done talking, Loki’s eyes were overrun with tears. He hardly knew why he was crying, but the flood of emotions rushing through him was inexorable and undeniable. He felt more exposed, more vulnerable, more _weak_ than he ever had before, but when Clint hugged him tightly and began kissing the wetness off his cheeks, he also felt more _safe_ than ever before. He clung to Clint and allowed himself to cry as he had not cried since his childhood, when seeking his mother’s comfort had not yet been a cause for ridicule.

Frigga, sitting next to him, was also weeping, but with tears of joy. Clint Barton’s response to the news of Loki’s child was better even than she had dared to hope; he had not only claimed the child as his own but had also sensed Loki’s loneliness and reached out to claim _him_ as well. She could not have wished for a better mate for her son, and she inwardly thanked the Norns for guiding him to this man, even though he was a mortal and would be taken from him much sooner than an Asgardian.

Sitting on the other side of the sofa, Thor had heard most of what Clint had said to Loki, and it gave him pause. Though he had not understood some of Clint’s expressions, his meaning was clear enough, and one phrase in particular was now stuck in his mind: _“You thought I’d run, just like everyone else in your life has.”_ While he wondered to whom, exactly, Clint was referring, it was impossible to deny that Thor himself must be included in that all-encompassing statement. He remembered how Loki had attempted to kill him, having harbored that much secret resentment against him – what had he done to cause it? When Thor had been banished to Midgard, his friends had disobeyed Loki in favor of helping him – did his brother feel that betrayal more keenly than he had let on? He also considered Odin’s refusal to acknowledge Loki’s misguided efforts, which resulted in Loki letting go of his hold on life – was that how Loki had expected Clint to respond as well?

Although Thor was relieved that Clint was willing to be a father to the child and was offering Loki his support in more ways than one, it nonetheless bothered the thunder god to realize that the Human was (probably) the only man other than himself who had experienced carnal pleasure with Loki. He knew he never should have used his brother in that way, but it was an altogether separate matter to make his heart accept that his role as Loki’s lover was being usurped by another, and a mortal man at that. Thor fought to overcome his jealousy as he watched Loki being comforted by Clint Barton. 


	13. Initial Reaction

When Frigga had explained how some Jötun males also possessed female organs, Clint initially dismissed it, since he had extremely intimate knowledge of Loki’s physiology and was certain that his former lover did not have a vagina; however, the thought occurred to him that she would not be telling them this information unless it were pertinent to the reason for their visit, and that this visit had to have something to do with Loki for him to have been let out of his prison cell, and then Clint was painfully aware of the many, many times he had fucked Loki, having relived every encounter more than once in his memories... and he knew it _had_ to be the truth. Not that it was any easier to believe, of course, but when he saw the fear and desperation in Loki’s eyes, he was forced to accept it. And, being a man of action, he had acted – in the only way he thought was acceptable, considering the circumstances.

Holding a sobbing, broken Loki in his arms, he felt justified in his decisions. Loki needed him, just as much as his child would need him, and Clint was not about to let either of them down without trying his damnedest. His guess that Loki had been isolated and lonely was proven out, it seemed, by how the once-proud demigod was now clutching at him for comfort. Clint felt a momentary surge of anger at Thor, who was sitting alongside Loki as though in support of his brother but had abandoned him when he had needed him most. Clint pushed that feeling down with the determination that protecting Loki was _his_ responsibility now and that he would do a far better job of it than the god of thunder ever had. Rubbing Loki’s back in long, soothing strokes, Clint waited for him to calm down so he could ask the myriad questions percolating in his mind.

The others in the room had questions of their own, too, but even Tony kept his mouth shut out of respect for the two at the center of this bizarre turn of events. Though only Natasha had known for certain that Clint had been sexually involved with Loki during his captivity, Bruce and Fury had suspected, at least, that Loki might have taken advantage of him while controlling him. Tony had not given it much thought before, but now presented with the truth, it seemed an unsurprising and almost natural outcome to him. Steve had a harder time wrapping his mind around it – not because he was unfamiliar with the practice of men making love with each other, but because he would have expected Loki, as the aggressor, to have impregnated Clint rather than the other way around. Of course he had not expected _either_ until it had become obvious that _some_ form of sexual intercourse had occurred, which still left him blushing beet red. Clint’s display of unabashed affection, however, made it rather easier to comprehend; it was clear that at least on the Human’s part, there was more than simple physical lust at play. Seeing them locked in a tangled mess of limbs filled Steve with a warm, wistful longing, just as it filled Natasha with cold dread.

When Loki’s outburst began to subside, Frigga gave him a handkerchief to wipe his eyes, and he managed to say, between sniffs, “I’m sorry, my body... all the hormones... I just can’t seem to... _control_ it, anymore.”

“Oh, yeah!” Clint responded, comprehension dawning. “Hormones – of course! How are you feeling? This must be so strange for you...”

Loki blew his nose like a trumpet before answering, with great fervor, “You have _no_ idea!”

“We thought he had been poisoned at first,” Frigga explained. “He became deathly ill and lost so much weight, we feared we might lose him altogether.” She ran a hand affectionately over his hair. “We had not expected anything like this, so it took some time to find the cause of his illness. Imagine our surprise when we did!”

“You were sick?” Clint asked Loki directly, concern etching his face. Loki nodded, not wishing to elaborate.

“He could not keep down anything, even when his stomach was empty,” Thor supplied, somehow wanting Clint to know how horribly the pregnancy had affected Loki. “He was convinced the poison was fatal and asked us to release him from his misery.”

Clint heard his comments without removing his gaze from Loki, who once again had cast down his eyes. “Is this true?” he asked him softly. “You were so sick... you thought you were dying?”

A twinge of color appeared in Loki’s sunken cheeks as he made a slight nod. Clint pressed a kiss to the dark ring under one of his eyes, understanding better why it had appeared.

“We call it ‘morning sickness’ on Earth,” he told Loki. “I don’t know much about it, but I’ve heard it’s pretty nasty.”

“I assure you, that is a misnomer,” Loki said dryly, “for my sickness was certainly _not_ limited to the morning hours.”

“It must have been awful,” Clint murmured, holding Loki close. “You must have been so frightened... not knowing what was happening, but expecting the worst.”

Loki stilled, suddenly feeling as though his entire being had been laid bare – or rather, as though his heart had been sliced and put on display like that of a Gopulian fish, still beating while the privileged customer prepared to eat it. He was uncertain why or how Clint was able to see into him so clearly, cutting through all the many layers of deceit and distraction to the core of his insecurities, but despite his instinct to flinch away from such scrutiny, he did not feel the sense of danger or dread he might have expected. Clint had only mentioned it because he was concerned for Loki, worried about his emotional as well as physical wellbeing; with Clint, his heart was safe. Although Loki did not answer with words, his tightened grip on Clint’s arms spoke clearly.

“So... are you over that stage?” Clint asked. Loki gave a small shrug.

“We have found a way to alleviate the symptoms,” Frigga told him. “We do not know if it will last through the entire pregnancy or not.”

“And how long will the pregnancy last?” Clint asked, raising one eyebrow.

“We have no way of knowing,” Frigga admitted. “If the child takes after you, its Human father, it may be born in as little as seven months; if it takes after Loki, we cannot say for certain... we do not have any records on the gestation period of the Jötun.”

“What she has not yet told you,” Loki added, forcing himself with a great effort of will to push away from the comforting warmth of Clint’s chest, “is that the Jötun are a monstrous race, blue-skinned and marked with ancestral runes all across their bodies. We... The Æsir call them ‘Frost Giants’ with good reason.” He could not meet Clint’s eyes as he said, “If the child takes after me at all, it would be dangerous for you to be near it; your mortal body would not be able to withstand a single blast of its power.”

“So, I’ll have to take precautions,” Clint responded steadily, determined to show Loki that he would not give up on their child. “But you don’t look anything like that – why is that?”

Loki pursed his lips so Frigga supplied the answer. “The All-Father placed a powerful spell upon him when he claimed him as his own – as our son – when he was an infant. He naturally had shape-shifting abilities, so it was easy to make him conform to an Æsir body; now he will not return to his Jötun form unless he is in direct contact with another one of his kind, and even then not completely unless he wishes it.”

“Huh. So the kid might be born blue, like a Jötun, or possibly turn out mostly Human, or even look like a mixture of the two species,” Clint said, counting out the options to clarify them. “It might have powers like Loki, or none like me, or somewhere in between; and it might live thousands of years like you guys, or just about a hundred years like us Humans, or somewhere in the middle.”

“Or it may surpass any powers and abilities we can imagine, becoming a plague upon all the Nine Realms,” Loki put in, “or it may not survive beyond birth at all. There is simply no way to predict the outcome of this... It is completely unprecedented.”

“Well.” Clint grinned and gathered both of Loki’s slender hands in his own. “Sounds like one for the history books, doesn’t it?”

Loki’s expression was of disbelief as he said, “Perhaps you do not understand the _gravity_ of this situation...”

Clint shrugged. “After what I’ve seen – inter-dimensional aliens with flying crustacean ships and all – having a kid with unusual powers and traits doesn’t seem too challenging. It’ll be an adventure, sure, but at least it’ll keep life interesting.” He stroked Loki’s knuckles with his thumbs before asking, “So... I suppose it’s too soon to tell if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Yes,” Loki answered, but Clint did not miss the slight hesitation before he spoke. He would have pursued the matter if Frigga did not interrupt him with an unexpected offer.

“Would you like to see the child?” she asked, a proud smile lighting up her face.

“See it?” Clint echoed. “Like a... ultrasound or something?”

Frigga nodded and placed her hands on Loki’s shoulders without waiting for Clint to reply. As he and all the other Humans watched with anticipation, a small golden ball – made up of a thousand pinpricks of light – formed in the air before Loki. The lights tightened and focused to reveal a curled form within.

“So tiny,” Clint whispered in awe, “but look at those little fingers and toes! It’s... It’s _perfect!_ ”

Loki, who had been observing Clint’s reaction without daring to breathe, felt as though the weight of the world – perhaps of _all_ the worlds – had been lifted off his shoulders. 


	14. A Name

“Well, my friends,” Tony remarked, unable to suppress himself any longer, “I believe this calls for a celebration! Jarvis, have one of my other suits deliver some champagne and Cuban cigars.” When Clint turned to him in disbelieving amusement, Tony pointed to the image of the fetus and declared, “That, Hawkeye, is a fine-looking kid! I wouldn’t have believed it possible that you could make such a fine specimen of a... well, _whatever_ it is – let alone with _Loki_ – but you should be proud of yourself!”

“Yes, congratulations,” Bruce added, stepping closer to give Clint a gentle slap on the shoulder. “You’re right about this being one for the history books; I don’t suppose there’s ever been a Human-Jötun crossbreed before... It’ll change our understanding of genetics forever. But for what it’s worth, Hawkeye, I think you’ll make a _great_ dad.”

“Thanks,” Clint said, touched most by his last comment.

Frigga’s projected image of the child faltered and blurred for a moment. “Excuse me,” she said mildly, “but why do you all call Clint Barton ‘Hawkeye’?”

“Oh,” Bruce said, gesturing vaguely with a disarming smile, “it’s from his precision aiming – he’s quite the marksman, you know. He has ‘eyes like a hawk.’ Just a little nickname we have for him.”

“I see.” She turned to tease Loki, “You never told me that was why you’d chosen that name.”

“M-Mother!” Loki spluttered, his cheeks flushing an even brighter crimson than they already were.

“What name?” Clint immediately demanded.

“ _No_ name,” Loki insisted, but his embarrassment said otherwise.

“I thought it was a rather lovely one,” Frigga said with a sigh. “And fitting, too, now that I know its origins.” She smiled at Clint and explained, “I walked in on him unexpectedly the other day and found him talking to the babe in his belly – much like you did, earlier. Of course the child cannot yet know what we are saying, but I’m sure it can recognize our voices.”

Trying not to squirm, Loki assiduously avoided Clint’s gaze.

“Loki. No more secrets,” Clint stated flatly. “If you’ve picked out a name for our kid, I’d like to know.”

“It is... _folly_ to name a child before it is born... _especially_ when it is uncertain whether the child will even survive its first breath,” Loki muttered. He had had too many of his secrets exposed already, in the presence of his former enemies, with very little choice in the matter. And he felt uncomfortable revealing this particular one just yet.

“The baby looks like it’s doing great,” Clint said, reaching out to touch Loki’s stomach again and sending shivers of pleasure through his tense body. “The fact that it has grown this much is proof enough for me that it can and _will_ survive. Loki, stop expecting the worst case scenario and making things more complicated than they have to be. Just tell me... _please_.”

Loki blinked in surprise at the need in Clint’s tone. The demigod was used to being threatened, ordered, even cajoled, but he could not remember the last time someone had made a genuine request of him. Clint was actually treating him with respect, and it felt... _nice_. Hesitantly, Loki opened his mouth.

“I had thought... perhaps, if it _does_ live, and... if it just _happens_ to be a boy... the name... ‘Heideral’ might be... appropriate,” he admitted.

“It means ‘Little Hawk,’” Frigga translated, beaming.

“You were going to name it after me?” Clint said, a little taken aback even though Frigga had hinted as much before. “You weren’t going to _tell_ me about my kid, but you were still going to _name_ him after me?”

Loki shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Like I said, only if it survived, and only if it were a boy.”

“What would you name it if it’s a girl, then?”

“I... I don’t know,” Loki confessed. “I haven’t thought of a good one for a girl...”

Clint narrowed his eyes at the way Loki glanced at his hands while speaking. “No. That’s not it. No more lies, Loki – you haven’t _bothered_ to come up with a name for a girl because you _know_ it’s going to be a boy.”

Loki’s head snapped up, his eyes betraying his shock.

“I... I n-never... s-said that,” he stammered.

“No, you didn’t. But I think I can tell when you’re hiding something.” Clint took care not to sound harsh. “It’s all right, Loki – I’ve always accepted that you have powers I can’t understand, abilities I can’t even begin to imagine. So if you tell me the kid is going to be a boy, I believe you.”

Loki shook his head. “No, I-I don’t... I’ve never had the gift of foresight,” he explained. “I’ve never even claimed to! It’s just... I have this... sort of... _feeling_... I can’t explain why...”

“Darling, it’s not unheard of,” Frigga interjected. “Many mothers claim to sense their child – what it will look like, how it will sound – while it is still in their womb. With as many gifts as you have, I would not be surprised at all if you have perceived aright the gender of your child.” She smiled indulgently. “Perhaps, if he is as gifted as you, he has told you himself.”

“What did you say it was?” Clint asked, placing his palm on Loki’s bared belly. “Hide... Hime-what?”

“Heideral,” Loki mumbled. Suddenly, the baby in the golden sphere turned, making both Loki and Clint jump in surprise.

“Well!” Frigga laughed, her voice echoing like music off the walls. “It seems he knows his name already!”

“I guess so,” Clint said, a huge grin spreading across his face. Stroking Loki’s stomach, he spoke at _it_ rather than the shimmering projection above it: “Heideral, this is your dad. Or at least one of them. I can’t wait to actually touch you and hold you, but I guess that’ll come in due time. For now I’m just glad to know you’re in there; I can’t think of a better, safer place for you to be.” When he drew his fingertips across the bump as though scratching it, the miniature arms in the projection flailed in response. “He could feel that, couldn’t he?” Clint asked Loki with an expression of pure joy. “He might not have liked it, but he definitely _felt_ it!”

“It would seem so,” Loki managed to reply, although the same touch had winded him for a very different reason. He ached to be consumed by the heat of Clint’s passion, as he had been so often before in those memorable nights and days they had spent together. When Clint began tucking the folds of Loki’s clothes, refitting the hooks and clasps that held them in place, Loki felt a strange mixture of relief and loss – relief at having his disfigured body hidden from the prying eyes of the other Humans, but disappointment at having his erstwhile lover’s attentions removed from his skin. Even Frigga took her hands from his shoulders, no longer sensing the need to project his child’s image, making Loki feel bereft. But as soon as his robes were in order, Clint took Loki’s hands (which were still chained with magic-dampening manacles) and intertwined their fingers. Loki looked up in surprise to find Clint’s lips twitching.

“You said something earlier about your brother wanting to pay his lady friend a visit,” Clint said with a drawl. “Does that mean he’ll be here for a while? Meaning... you’ll be here for a while, too?”

“I... I don’t know,” Loki answered truthfully, glancing sidelong at his mother. Frigga gave him a shrewd smile.

“I’m sure your father knows what is happening, with or without Heimdall’s assistance,” she replied. “I’m also sure I can persuade him that... it was _necessary_ for you to spend some time here on Midgard. To acquaint yourself with the other half of your child’s heritage, of course,” she blithely added. Loki’s jaw dropped; he was unable to believe his good luck.

“Well, then.” Clint turned to Fury and asked with aplomb, “The mother – or father – of my child just came all the way from another world to visit me. I wonder if I could get some time off for a... _conjugal_ visit?”

If Fury could have spared it, his remaining eye would have started out of his head, but his voice was steady as he replied, “You still have some medical leave that you haven’t used, ordered by our head shrink himself. I suppose you really ought to take that time off... _recuperating_.”

“I think I will. Thanks, Nick,” Clint said before standing up. He pulled a stunned Loki up onto his feet as well, where the demigod stood for a moment with want and worry warring within him. “What is it, Loki?” Clint asked, reading trouble in his hesitance.

“I... I just... I can’t use my magic,” Loki said, miserably indicating the chains on his wrists. “And I... uh... I’m not sure...” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know exactly how... _fertile_... I might be. The Jötun are a much larger race than either the Æsir or Midgardians, so...”

“So if you happen to get pregnant _again_ , on top of this one,” Clint filled in, realizing what was troubling him, “it’s going to get too crowded in there. I got it – we need condoms, and probably lube, since you can’t do your magic trick thingy.”

Loki nodded, blushing bright red again; after all, his mother was right there, listening to this exchange with a beatific look of feigned innocence, and Thor was on his other side with thunderclouds forming on his brow. Clint ignored both of them to pull Loki down for a thorough kiss, which promised much more to come.

Fury sighed in resignation. “Barton, I suspect your barracks quarters are going to be... a bit _cramped_ for your guest. We already have rooms set aside for our visitors; I suggest you show Loki to his.”

“With pleasure,” Clint responded, throwing Fury a grateful grin. He tugged on Loki’s chain as though to lead him away by it. “The PX is right on the way.” 


	15. Thor's Flashback

Thor had been listening to Clint’s plans for Loki with growing outrage; as Clint began to lead Loki, who was still somewhat dazed, toward one of the doors, Thor whispered furiously at his mother.

“Are you just going to... let them _leave?_ ”

She arched a delicate brow at him in surprise. “Of course, my dear,” she murmured. “It would hardly be fair to have you visiting Jane Foster while your brother is not allowed to spend time with the father of his _child_.” She glanced up as Clint placed an arm around Loki’s waist, guiding him to go first through the doorway. “Besides, I like Clint Barton – he is quite the gentleman, and it is obvious that he cares for my son. I think he just might make Loki _happy_... When was the last time Loki was truly happy, do you think?”

Thor could not answer her seemingly offhanded query, for he was taken back to a moment in time that was etched indelibly in his memory: the sight of a younger Loki laughing on a bed of green grass, naked and wet from swimming in the river. Thor had hauled him out of the water and carried him on one shoulder before depositing him, with some care not to hurt him, onto the ground. Thor’s cock had been achingly erect from watching his brother’s lithe body splashing in the sunlight.

_“Hide us from Heimdall,” Thor had demanded._

_“What – here? Now?” Loki had laughed, not believing him at first. When Thor crouched over his body and hoisted Loki’s knees on his arms, Loki saw his rampant manhood and quickly cast a spell of concealment._

_“You do realize, we could still be seen if anyone chances to walk this way,” Loki pointed out while casting the next spell, two fingers touching his own hole and the other hand wrapped about Thor’s cock. Both became slick with a clear, viscous fluid._

_“Nobody comes this way,” Thor argued tersely, already pushing his tip inside Loki’s tight body. Loki groaned and cast another spell, allowing Thor’s cock to slide in with greater ease._

_“I hope you’re right, Brother,” was all Loki said. A moment later he gasped and cried out as Thor found the good spot inside of him. “Thor! Oh, yes – right there!”_

_Thor had gladly complied, his thrusts growing more powerful and desperate as his brother encouraged him. By the time Thor had shot his seed within Loki, the younger boy’s chest had already been spattered with his own seed, and Loki had sighed with pleasure when Thor collapsed and lay on his sticky skin._

_“Oh, Thor... you make me so happy,” Loki had mumbled as he raked his fingers through Thor’s hair._

Recalling that day now, just as Loki was being dragged away from him (however willingly) by another man who planned to engage Loki in exactly the same sort of activity, made Thor realize how much it bothered him to see his brother with someone else. He had not even considered how Loki might have felt when he had begun courting Jane, but Thor certainly was not ready for Loki to court (or be courted by) another lover. He respected Clint Barton, even liked him as a comrade and a friend, but imagining him doing things to Loki... made Thor’s blood boil.

However, since his mother – far from stopping them – was actually _encouraging_ Clint and Loki to go make love, Thor knew there was nothing he could do. Her casual reference to Jane, too, made him realize that he had an obligation. He had not intended be away from Jane for so long, although in his defense he _had_ been quite busy since he had taken his leave of her. It also forced him to admit that he was being unreasonable about Loki – if he himself had found another lover, he could hardly fault Loki for finding another as well. Drawing in a deep breath, Thor resolved to do the right thing by Jane and to leave his brother alone.

“Commander Fury,” Thor addressed the man, who was still staring at the door Clint and Loki had left by as though disbelieving his eye. “I wonder if you could tell me where Jane Foster is right now?”

“I thought you might ask that,” Fury said, returning his attention to Thor. “We have a jet standing by for you.”

“There is no need for that. I can simply fly there,” Thor began, but was interrupted by Fury’s clipped response.

“You would be crossing multiple international airspaces and potentially disrupting the flight paths of hundreds of aircraft. Our way might take a little longer, but it will be a lot less trouble. Believe me.”

“Oh... well, then... Thank you,” he rallied, then stood to leave. “Mother, if you will excuse me...”

“Of course!” Frigga rose as well and gave Thor a quick peck on the cheek before saying in his ear, “I do hope Loki will not be the _only_ one gifting me with a grandchild, my dearest.”

“Mother!” Thor gasped, blushing.

“Well? Can you fault me?” Frigga replied in a reasoning tone. “It has been much too long since the patter of little feet have echoed in the palace. And Loki’s son may want a playmate.”

While Thor gaped at her, speechless, Tony piped up, “I’m surprised you can remember the patter of little feet – I would’ve expected Thor to have stomped around like a herd of buffalo.”

“He did. The patter was of Loki’s feet, before he learned to slip through the halls as silently as a shadow,” Frigga informed him with a smile. To Thor she added, giving his back a little push, “Why are you tarrying? You should be off like an arrow from the bow to see your Jane Foster. Do not worry about your brother; I will keep watch over him. Although I do believe Clint Barton will take good care of him as well.”

Thor felt a jolt of thunder tear through his own chest at the mention of Loki’s new lover, but he only nodded and pursed his lips.

“I’ll take you to the hangar,” Steve offered, so Thor followed him out without another word.

Once her two sons had left, Frigga turned to Fury with a disarming smile and said, “I was hoping to see more of your facility here. You are developing weapons in case of another war with a superior race like the Chitauri, are you not?”

“How did you...?” Fury began but caught himself. “Yes. We have realized how vulnerable we are and are preparing to defend ourselves better,” he admitted. “While we appreciate having your people as allies, we would prefer to fight our own battles.”

“A very noble sentiment,” Frigga assured him. “And I must say, the progress your people have made in such a relatively short amount of time is impressive. When I last visited your planet, Man had just learned to make weapons of steel. This building itself would have seemed like the palace of the gods to your people then.”

Tony jumped up to offer his arm to Frigga in a gallant gesture. “It would be my honor to show you around, if you’d like. And on behalf of the entire Human race, if you have any suggestions for improving our defenses against nefarious aggressors like the Chitauri, I would be grateful for the information.”

“ _And_ the profit,” Fury muttered darkly.

“Hey, the last time we were invaded by aliens riding crustaceans, _my tower_ was the one that took a direct hit,” Tony reminded him.

“I do apologize for that,” Frigga said, patting his armored arm. “Loki is being punished for his part in it, of course, but I hope you understand... he was not acting of his own volition – he had been threatened by the Chitauri into helping them.”

“Oh, ah... of course,” Tony responded.

“I’ve asked the All-Father to grant him leniency, considering the trauma Loki had experienced prior to those events, as well as his current condition,” Frigga sighed, “but my husband is quite strict about not changing his decrees, even though he had been in a foul temper and might have been rather harsher in his initial judgment than otherwise. But I digress. If there are any suggestions I can make about your fortifications, or at least ones that you are able to implement, I would be happy to inform you as reparation for the unspeakable damage my son has wrought upon your world.”

“How very generous of you,” Tony beamed. “Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha had let the conversation wash over her like sounds at the seashore, wave upon wave of meaningless noise. From the moment she had seen the projected image of the baby growing inside of Loki, she knew that Clint would insist on being a father to the child. But more than that, she knew it would cement his feelings toward Loki himself. Clint had already confessed to her that he might be in love with his former captor, even though _that_ particular situation complicated things quite a bit; now that they would be raising a child together, Clint would want to be a proper family. And from the way Loki had responded to Clint’s kindness – not to mention his sexual overtures – Natasha had no doubt that the god of mischief would eagerly accept Clint’s love and attention. Whether Loki would do so without breaking Clint’s heart was yet to be seen, but regardless of the outcome, one thing was certain: Loki was taking Clint away from her. Again.

When Bruce sat down on the sofa across from her, Natasha’s survival instinct kicked in, making her notice for the first time that they were alone in the room.

“Are you all right?” he asked in his gentle voice.

She considered an outright lie but settled for, “I’m not sure. Of anything.”

Bruce nodded. “It’s a lot to think about.”

“That’s for damn sure.” After another long pause, Natasha got up and announced, “I could use a drink. Join me?”


	16. Love Me Hard

Clint kept his arm around Loki’s waist as he guided him down the corridors to the PX, flanked by a handful of dark-suited agents. The store was a little out of their way, actually, but Clint grabbed only what they needed to keep their visit short and unwanted attention to a minimum. The cashier rang up the boxes of condoms and personal lubricants without so much as batting an eye; they were in and out of the place like one of Clint’s precision operations. Loki thought he could not have pulled it off with greater efficiency himself.

Of course, at the moment, Loki’s mind was spinning almost out of control, so it was unlikely he could have pulled anything off – even a shopping trip –without serious complications. Ever since Clint had touched him, lust had been raging through Loki’s veins like wildfire; however, he still had qualms about engaging in sex with only Midgardian contraceptives for protection. But the reassuring presence of Clint’s hand on his hip, making him feel as though the Human really did know what he was doing, stilled some of his fears. Raw desire made him disregard the rest.

They arrived at the quarters prepared for the Asgardians and an attendant showed them into Loki’s room. As soon as the door closed behind her and they were finally alone, Clint spun Loki around to face him.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, searching Loki’s eyes for any hint of deception.

“Are you _joking?_ ” Loki shot back, peeling off his tunic and mentally thanking his mother for choosing one that could be taken off around his handcuffs. “Just shut up and fuck me!”

Clint laughed and started shedding clothes as well. “I thought so! I _knew_ I felt you shiver when I touched you. You couldn’t stop thinking about me, could you?”

“Well, seeing as how I was in solitary confinement this whole time,” Loki said sarcastically, dropping his baggy trousers and crawling up onto the bed, “my mind _did_ run over the times we spent together rather often, yes.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Clint huffed as he climbed up after him, “I haven’t been with anybody else, either. That’s a pretty long dry spell for me.”

“I do hope that means... you’ve saved up a... a lot of... _energy_... for me,” Loki panted out between the kisses Clint was demanding of him. His body thrummed with need when Clint started removing his form-fitting Asgardian underwear, palming as much of Loki’s skin as possible while he slid it down the demigod’s long legs.

“Mm-hmm... all of it... just for you,” Clint declared with a wicked glint in his eyes. He had kicked off his own underwear along with his pants and was enjoying the hungry, almost salivating look on Loki’s face as he stared at the bead of precome growing on the tip of Clint’s cock. Loki’s own cock, slender and slightly curved, had also grown to its full length and girth and was now smearing precome on his protruding belly. Clint crouched down to place a gentle kiss on that rounded bump before taking Loki’s cock deep into his mouth.

“Oh! Clint!” Loki cried out and writhed on the bed as Clint tongued the sensitive underside, following the pattern of a throbbing vein there. When he sucked hard, Loki flailed helplessly and tried to cross his ankles behind Clint’s back; he failed because Clint pressed the tip of his tongue into the tender slit of Loki’s cock and began rubbing up and down rapidly. The delicious friction made Loki’s toes curl and his back arch, nearly sending him over the edge. Clint eased up, however, and sucked off of his cock with a lewd popping noise.

“Neither of us is going to last until you’re stretched,” he panted, his voice rough with lust. “We’ll have to make do with this for now.”

Before Loki could ask what “this” was, Clint lined up their two cocks and began stroking them together with his strong, meaty hands. With a gasp of pleasure, Loki gave himself over to whatever his lover wanted to do with him. As Clint formed a tunnel with his hands and moved in tiny thrusts to force their cocks to rub together within it, Loki threw the chain on his wrists behind Clint’s head and pulled him down closer.

“So... good...” Loki whispered, wishing they could kiss again. He could see Clint had run out of hands to support himself with, though, so he did not pull him any further.

“Are you ready?” Clint asked, keeping his movements steady. When Loki nodded, Clint doubled the pace of his thrusts, attempting to hit the edge of Loki’s cockhead as much as possible with his own. With a cry like a creaking door, Loki shot out his load, spattering his own stomach, chest, and chin. Clint followed soon after, leaving thick, ropy stripes of white semen on his pregnant lover’s body as well. By comparison, Loki’s seemed almost watery. Clint bent down to lick Loki’s paler issue and smiled at the familiar taste.

“Well, that was... different,” Loki panted. “Not unsatisfying, although it wasn’t quite what I’d had in mind...”

“We’ll get you opened up now,” Clint promised, then ducked out from under Loki’s chain to fetch their shopping bag. Ripping open a box with a tube of lubricant, he quickly slicked up two of his fingers and placed them at Loki’s entrance. The first finger slipped in without effort; the second elicited a groan. “Sorry – too fast?” Clint asked and withdrew one digit before Loki could answer, cursing himself for being too eager when Loki had just told him he had not seen any action for over two months.

“No, don’t!” Loki protested. “Don’t hold back – I can handle it. I want your cock up inside me so much... hurry up and get me open!”

“You horny slut,” Clint teased. “I’ll get it in there, don’t worry.”

Loki groaned again as the second finger reentered his hole, but he breathed deeply to force himself to relax. While Clint’s fingers wormed their way around inside him, stretching his opening and applying lube everywhere, Loki pulled his legs up on either side to give the man unrestricted access. Before long Clint was inserting a third finger from his other hand, twisting the three around to make sure the entrance was equally loose at all points of the compass.

“Oh, Norns, Clint – I’m ready! Put it in me already,” Loki begged.

“I’m beyond ready too, Baby,” Clint answered, “but I gotta touch you where it’s good...”

Pressing one finger in deeper than the rest, Clint found the spot on the first try, causing Loki to experience what looked like a seizure of pleasure, trembling as he cried out. Clint’s other fingers followed suit, making Loki twitch and flail his limbs like a ragdoll.

“Oh, Clint! Oh! Oh, Norns! C-Clint!” Loki spouted, not even trying to be coherent.

“Are you ready for the big one?” Clint asked, withdrawing one hand so he could stroke himself and roll on a condom. He was erect again and straining after watching and hearing Loki’s reaction.

“Of course I am, you big dolt! Just stick it in me – fuck me _hard_ with it,” Loki demanded, knowing Clint would not refuse. When the man’s thick cock breached him, he groaned with relief. As it plowed deeper into him, he welcomed it with everything he had, attempting to draw it further in with what muscles he controlled in that passage. It did not take long to become fully seated, a sword driven in all the way to its hilt, Clint’s tense balls the only obstacle that prevented it from going in any further.

“Loki,” Clint called, and when Loki looked at him he saw the command in his lover’s eyes. Reaching up to meet him was an effort, especially with his rounded stomach, but Loki managed to bend himself until their lips met in a hot, passionate kiss. Only when their lips were locked did Clint begin to move within Loki, thrusting from deep to deeper with every fiber of his muscular body.

“Mm! Mmhh!” Loki moaned into his mouth, unable to verbalize how much he enjoyed being filled by Clint’s large manhood – how much he had missed it over the past several weeks. But Clint knew exactly what Loki was feeling: how _right_ this felt, so like a homecoming, as though all of their pieces were parts of a greater whole that was _meant_ to fit together. The tightness and the heat were a familiar sensation to him now, but after being deprived of it for so long, he knew he would never take it for granted. He guessed, from Loki’s enthusiastic sounds, that his lover felt the same way.

Clint indulged in the shallow but powerful thrusting for a while, wanting to reestablish that connection he remembered having with Loki over the days and nights they had spent together. Then he finally released Loki’s lips, now bright red from the activity, and bent his neck to suck instead on the slender god’s nipples. Listening to Loki gasp for air, Clint smiled with satisfaction and braced himself on the bed with his strong arms, making sure he was a safe distance above the precious baby bump. Then he pulled out most of his cock from Loki so he could slam it into him again and, as ordered, fuck him _hard_ with it. 


	17. Control Room

Frigga’s tour of the underground facility was more informative for Tony than for her since she kept dropping hints about unexpected uses for common elements, each one spawning ideas for multiple patents in Tony’s hyperactive mind. Fury trailed behind them, feeling disgruntled and even superfluous at times. Most of the team had disappeared – Natasha and Bruce were now toasting each other with commiserating drinks – although Steve rejoined them when they passed through the hangar.

“Thor is safely on his way,” Steve reported to Fury while Frigga described some of the Asgardian flightcraft in enough tantalizing detail to fire up Tony’s imagination.

“I thought you might go with him,” Fury commented.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he needed a chaperone,” Steve answered, right when there was a lull in Frigga and Tony’s conversation.

“I should hope not, gentlemen,” Frigga said with a throaty chuckle. “As I mentioned before, I am quite ready for my sons to present me with grandchildren. And I do believe Thor’s intentions toward Lady Jane Foster are honorable.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Steve replied politely, his cheeks coloring.

There was not much else to see except the control room, which Tony had saved for the last. As he led Frigga in, still chatting about potential uses of flerovium in weaponry, he was horrified to see a porno flick up on the main screen. Tony was very fond of porn, but even _he_ had some sense of decorum; plus it featured two _men_ going at it like bonobos.

“Hey, Galaga Guy!” he called out in a stage whisper to an agent he recognized. “ _Ix-nay_ on the _porno gay!_ ”

The man had been staring open-mouthed at the sight of unbridled male-on-male anal action, so it took him a moment to gather his thoughts and search his controls for the right buttons – time during which Frigga calmly observed the scene on the massive monitor.

“That is certainly a nice view of Clint Barton,” she remarked. “I can see why Loki likes him.”

“I-You-ah- _What?!_ ” Tony stumbled, completely caught off guard. Fury had come in a few steps behind them and was looking not only furious but downright apoplectic, while Steve was blushing all shades of red, including purple.

“That is Clint Barton, standing, and Loki lying on the bed. I would recognize my son’s legs anywhere,” she replied with aplomb. The legs in question were crossed behind Clint’s back, which was in full view of the camera, as was his naked, muscular ass, which was clenching with every thrust as he pounded into Loki. “I realize you have concealed viewing devices everywhere,” she continued, “though of course Loki would not have noticed them since his powers are severely limited right now. And it seems Clint Barton either does not know about them or does not care.”

“He doesn’t know,” Fury answered through gritted teeth. “But it’s standard protocol to record any encounter with a... potentially _hostile_ alien being.”

“Oh, of course – we would do the same,” Frigga blithely assured him. “You never know when you might find a weakness that you may need to exploit later. But I do hope, Commander,” she added with her most charming smile, “you will extend the courtesy of allowing me to watch.”

“You want to _see_ this?” Tony asked, incredulous.

“Why would I not? Loki is carrying his first child – my first grandchild; I would like to know that Clint Barton is treating him with the proper care and respect.”

So saying, Frigga settled herself into Fury’s command chair as though getting comfortable for a show. Fury was so stunned that he could not object or even comment. Tony glanced back and forth between the screen and Frigga’s calm visage, then shrugged and sat in the seat next to her, mumbling to himself, “Too bad it’s not twins.” Steve simply had his eyes glued to the larger-than-life sex scene unfolding on the monitor that covered one entire wall, mouth agape. For a small hidden camera, the visual quality was excellent.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ah... Ah... _Ah!_ ” Loki keened every time Clint hit his sweet spot, which was almost every thrust. But before he could quite reach his climax, Clint backed off from the spot and slowed his movements, making it maddeningly impossible for Loki to reach release. His manacled hands were dangling from Clint’s neck where he had hooked his chain again, so he could not even touch his own cock for relief.

“Stop... tantalizing me!” he complained, breathless and sweaty.

“Patience is a virtue – something you need more of,” Clint teased with a wicked grin. “Besides, the wait will make it that much better.”

Loki mumbled something unintelligible, although Clint was fairly certain it was derogatory. He had pulled Loki’s lanky body to the edge of the bed, his ass jutting out just enough to be easily accessible when Clint planted his feet on the floor and grasped Loki’s hips for leverage. He had been alternating bouts of deep, long strokes with short, quick jabs – driving Loki and himself to the brink of ecstasy only to ease away again – for the better part of an hour. When they had fucked before, Loki had demanded quick release and often; now that Clint was in full control of his faculties, he was determined to show Loki his own preferred style of making love. The gradual buildup of tension, he knew, would make their climax that much more satisfying, even if Loki whined shamelessly now.

“Oh... _Oh!_ For pity’s sake... Clint! Stop... _torturing_ me!” Loki gasped.

“Stop, you said?” Clint echoed, bringing his movements to a standstill. He couldn’t suppress a smirk when Loki groaned out loud in frustration.

“I liked you... a lot better... when you were... _obedient_ ,” Loki panted as Clint laughed and resumed his gentle prodding. Loki reached down to pinch and twist Clint’s nipples in retaliation, pleased when the Human’s breath caught in his throat. The god of mischief tried to spur him into thrusting faster and deeper by pulling on his ass with his long legs, which were crossed behind his hips, and was somewhat successful. For a while the room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing and the heavy slapping noises Clint’s balls made when they hit Loki’s ass.

Loki released Clint’s nipples in favor of grasping the bulging muscles on his upper arms, then arched his back to try to make the man’s large cock drive in deeper. Clint obliged by stroking Loki’s prostate and smiled to see his eyelids flutter at the sensation.

“You’re really beautiful, you know.”

Startled, Loki’s eyes sought out Clint’s, suspicious of duplicity. When he could find no evidence of it but rather was presented with the truth of the other man’s regard for him, he seemed at a loss what to do. Clint paused his hip motions and slid his hands up Loki’s sides to grab him behind the shoulders, then hauled him up off the bed as he himself stood up straight. Loki’s jaw dropped in surprise at the show of brute strength as well as the feeling of having most of his weight supported solely by Clint’s cock.

“C-Clint?” he asked, unsure what to expect.

Clint kissed the demigod’s chest and sucked on a nipple before replying. “You’re so beautiful... and I’m so lucky to get another chance with you.”

Any words Loki might have said were blocked by an enormous lump in his throat. All he could do was wrap his slender arms and legs around Clint and hang on as the man jostled him up and down on his cock, taking some care for his protruding belly but very definitely declaring his ownership of Loki with every momentous thrust. When Loki whimpered, his needy cock leaking precome on both their bodies, Clint decided that it was time to bring their lovemaking to a conclusion at last.

“Loki... I love you,” Clint whispered.

With a sharp intake of breath, Loki pushed himself up from his lover’s neck to look him in the face. Loki’s lips twitched as though he were trying to say something, but no sound came out.

“It’s all right,” Clint told him. “I know.”

He gently laid Loki down on the bed again and pulled the chain off over his head, giving Loki the freedom to touch himself if he wanted to, then began stroking his sweet spot in slow, powerful thrusts that made Loki’s toes curl. Clint’s hands held Loki’s hips in a punishing grip – one that would have left bruises on a Human – while he plowed into him with deliberate and deadly aim. Loki cried out in ever-increasing pleasure and urgency as he was driven up the staircase to ecstasy. In the end, he came all over himself without his cock ever being touched by either of them.

When the echoes of Loki’s cries had died down, Clint allowed himself to shoot his come in his lover’s body. Withdrawing only after the last drop had been released, he pulled off the condom and tied it, then tossed it into the wastebasket across the room. Clint touched Loki’s rounded stomach tenderly before lifting his long, exhausted body and settling him on the bed in a more comfortable position.

“How’s the kid?” he asked while he stretched out next to Loki.

“I don’t know,” Loki replied in a hazy murmur, “but I think he’s just fine.”

“If he’s feeling all the endorphins in your system, he should be better than ‘just fine,’” Clint pointed out.

“That sounds like an excuse to mate again... and often,” Loki said, smirking.

“Hey, if it works.”

Clint turned to study Loki when he did not answer and found his expression clouded.

“What is it?” he asked, rolling onto his side and moving closer.

“Nothing.”

“Wrong answer. Something’s bothering you.”

Loki finally met Clint’s gaze and, after a thoughtful moment, quietly replied, “You do realize... this can’t last.”

“Nothing ever lasts.”

“Of course. But we have only a day or two before... I must return to my cell. And I will not be allowed to have ‘conjugal visits’ there.”

Clint considered the statement. “Are you sure? Couldn’t you ask for leniency... or a reward for good behavior?”

Loki’s face subtly hardened as he looked away. “I could ask, but the answer will be ‘No.’ My mother has been asking for clemency on my behalf since the moment I was thrown in there, but Odin will not even entertain the notion. And a prisoner is only given rewards if he is meant to be rehabilitated.” Loki drew in a deep breath as though bracing himself before saying, “I am not _meant_ to be rehabilitated. What I was given is nothing less than an excruciatingly long death sentence.” 


	18. Loki Vents

Clint did not respond for a minute, wanting to absorb and digest Loki’s last remark. From the somber way in which it had been spoken, he realized that regardless of whether the statement was true or not, Loki, at least, believed it to be true. His haunted eyes were watching Clint, waiting to see how he would react. Clint reached out to gather him into his arms, and Loki succumbed without resisting.

“How can you be so sure?” he finally countered. “Maybe it’s just a test, to see how you take your punishment... to see if you’re really sorry for what you did.”

Loki snorted, the sound muffled against Clint’s shoulder. “If that were the case, he would have stripped me of my powers and sent me to some undeveloped world to learn my lesson – like he did with Thor.”

Clint suddenly had a vivid recollection of the time Thor had cried out in anguish, having failed to lift his own hammer. If Clint did not have an axe to grind with Thor, it might have made him feel sorry for the god of thunder; he could not imagine how Loki would have fared in a similar situation.

“No, I was deemed to be beyond rehabilitation,” Loki continued, “or perhaps Odin simply wished to bury me alive, to forget that I had ever existed. When I fell ill, I thought he might have had a change of heart... that he had decided to show me mercy by killing me outright, rather than keeping me trapped for eons in the dungeons.” Loki’s laugh sounded hollow and somehow brittle to Clint’s ears. “I was wrong. The All-Father does not change his mind so easily, nor does he offer mercy to the undeserving.”

“Why?” Clint asked. “I mean, why would he be so _cruel?_ I thought you were his _son_.”

“Didn’t you understand what my mother... what the Queen said?” Loki retorted, forcing himself to use the more accurate term. “I’m not his son at all, but an abandoned Frost Giant he just decided to bring home... as a trophy, perhaps. I have no idea why he made me think I was his, when he could have raised me as a servant or kept me as a prisoner of war from the beginning. But my punishment for trying to rule a world – the birthright that _he_ had raised me to believe was mine, mind you – is no more cruel than hiding my true nature from me until I found out in battle, when the shock of it put me off guard and very nearly got me killed by a monster. By one of my _fellow_ monsters, that is,” Loki amended in a hard tone. “Perhaps he felt that... as a Jötun, my feelings on the matter were irrelevant. After all, I’d been left out to die on a cold rock – I should be grateful to him for even taking me in, shouldn’t I? Regardless of how capriciously he treats me, I ought to be thankful just to be alive, yes? Even if it _is_ in a tiny cage for all of my miserable existence.”

Clint let Loki vent, realizing that he needed to take what the god of lies said with a grain of salt but feeling sympathetic toward him nonetheless. He offered what comfort he could, rubbing Loki’s bare back with both hands, as he considered what else he could say to him.

“What about Thor?” he finally asked. “If he succeeds Odin as king, wouldn’t he be able to grant you some freedom? Maybe even a full pardon?”

“Oh, yes – my _brother_ ,” Loki said with a sneer. “The one who didn’t even visit me in the dungeons until I was at death’s door, and then only because Mother had _ordered_ him to. I’m sure he would rather forget that I ever existed. As if it weren’t bad enough to find out I’m a Frost Giant, now I’m a freak that can get _pregnant_ as well! I’m a hideous embarrassment to the entire family. No doubt they’ve been working hard to get the word out that I was adopted, especially since too many of the guards saw me being diagnosed with the child to cover it up. No, setting me free is the _last_ thing Thor would ever do.”

Knowing what Thor had done to Loki in the past, Clint could hear the pain behind his projected hatred. It made Clint burn with anger, too, but it reminded him that he had wanted to clear the air with Loki – to make sure that they came to an understanding about something of primary importance.

“You still love him, don’t you,” Clint said, trying to keep any accusation out of his voice. “Even after all he’s done to you... you still love Thor.”

Loki froze, his body going rigid and tense in Clint’s arms.

“I-I d-don’t... I _never_...! Why in all the Nine Realms would you... even _think_ something like that?” Loki sputtered.

“It’s all right,” Clint soothed. “You don’t have to pretend – not with me, Loki. I _know_. I remember everything that happened when we were together. _Every_ thing. Even that _one_ memory you tried to hide from me.” Clint kissed Loki’s cheek, feeling the demigod tremble with conflicting emotions as he realized which incident Clint was referring to. “It’s all right,” he repeated. “I won’t hurt you like he did. I would _never_ hurt you... at least not on purpose. And I’m not leaving you. If they won’t let you out of your cell, I’ll come visit you every day. That’s a promise, Loki... and I keep my promises. You’ll see.”

Loki had gripped Clint’s shoulders without thinking, his nails digging into Clint’s skin, but Clint did not stop stroking Loki’s back in gentle caresses.

“It’s funny... when you singled me out, back in that lab,” Clint went on, “you actually chose me because I reminded you of _him_ , didn’t you? There was something about me that made you think of Thor... that’s why you decided to keep me instead of blasting me to bits like the other guys, isn’t it?”

“I-I-ah...” Loki gulped. “I c-can’t _imagine_ what you’re talking about!”

“Hmm,” Clint said mildly. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted... Sure, Thor’s a big, strong guy, but he was a giant flake when it came to you. And not to be rude or anything, but he doesn’t strike me as the sharpest tack in the box – know what I mean? So if that was my first impression, I’m gonna have to work on my people skills more.”

“It was nothing like that,” Loki protested, forgetting that in essence he was admitting to the rest of what Clint had said. “I only chose you because you had good reflexes and seemed to know your way around that place... like any good soldier would. And you proved me right: you made yourself useful immediately. What happened afterward was... an added benefit.”

A wry grin crossed Clint’s face. “So getting me in bed had nothing to do with my manly muscles or other... _attributes?_ ”

Loki flushed when he could not help glancing down at Clint’s cock, which was sizeable even when flaccid.

“I did take into consideration your many _assets_ before inviting you to my bed, yes,” he confessed. “I saw that you had more than one skill I could make good use of, so of course I used your talents to the fullest.”

“Mm-hmm,” Clint said agreeably. “So the fact that you had us humping like rabbits all that time... had nothing to do with your preference for hulking, muscular men who may or may not resemble a certain god of thunder, who also just so happens to have big, bulging muscles?”

“It. Does. Not.” Loki spat out each word through gritted teeth. “The only thing you’ve gotten right is how dim he is! He wouldn’t know his ass from his nose unless you handed it to him, and even then he might get confused. And as far as assets and _attributes_ go,” he added, with a meaningful look at Clint’s crotch, “he is no competition at all. You, my Hawk, are far more _gifted_ in certain areas than any son of Odin could ever hope to be.”

“Tell me more,” Clint said, smirking. “I like it when you stroke my ego... among other things.”

Loki took the hint and eagerly complied by grasping the Human’s cock and balls in his delicate fingers and massaging them as he continued. “You proved to me how intelligent and how utterly, ruthlessly _efficient_ you could be when presented with a task... and proper motivation. To be honest, I hadn’t expected that from one of your species; you single-handedly improved my opinion of the Human race.”

“Is that right,” Clint murmured with pleasure, languidly reaching down to stroke Loki’s manhood with one hand, making him gasp and shudder with reawakened desire. “How else did I manage to surprise you?”

“Well... I didn’t have high expectations... of a mere _mortal_ ,” Loki drawled, having trouble concentrating as his attention was diverted to his nether regions, “but your sheer physical _stamina_... was a pleasant surprise. I had thought, initially... that I would need to _augment_ your... physical abilities... with a little bit of magic – some manipulation of blood flow, that sort of thing – but, as it turned out... it was entirely unnecessary. You performed quite well... without any assistance.”

“Only because I had such a beautiful object for my attentions,” Clint told Loki, then leaned in for a kiss. While their tongues slid together, words abandoned as they sought to taste each other more deeply than ever before, their hands became entangled around their two cocks, forming a writhing tunnel for Clint to thrust his thickening shaft into and stroke the underside of Loki’s length. When at last they parted their lips for air, the previous conversation was all but forgotten in their haze of lust. 


	19. On the Big Screen

“Oh. My. God!” Tony exclaimed with part exasperation and part admiration. “They’re going at it _again?_ I know Loki’s supposed to have super-Human abilities, but what is _up_ with Hawkeye? Other than the obvious, I mean. The man is a _machine!_ ”

On the enormous screen, Clint was grunting like a wild boar as he pounded into Loki, who was on all fours on the bed and moaning with delight.

“Pheromones,” Frigga informed Tony. “When we discovered Loki’s unique condition, we also found that his body was producing thirty times the normal amount of pheromones as an Æsir female. We don’t know if it is constantly at such a level for him, or if it is caused by his pregnancy, or if it only happens during his cycles of fertility... but exposure to it, especially over long periods of time, would no doubt have a significant effect on a Human.”

“Well, that explains it,” Tony said and puffed on his cigar. His spare suit had arrived some time ago, and everyone in the command center had been offered a cigar and a glass of champagne. Fury had given up on maintaining any semblance of order or professionalism, opting to smoke his cigar and fume (both literally and figuratively) while continuing to watch Loki for any suspicious moves. Frigga and Steve did not care to smoke, but they were sipping the champagne with appreciation.

When Loki had vented to Clint about his treatment by Odin and Thor, Frigga had begun to weep. Since she had already given her handkerchief to Loki, Steve handed her his own and settled into the seat beside her.

“Is it true?” he asked her, concerned and somewhat appalled. “Is it really a death sentence for him?”

“I trust it will not be,” Frigga answered as she dabbed at her eyes. “I believe my husband only wants to see Loki change, to truly repent of his deeds... but I do not know. The way he has ignored him... it is not surprising that Loki thinks he has been disowned and... abandoned.”

When Clint confronted Loki about still loving Thor, Steve tried to rationalize it at first as brotherly love; however, when Loki’s responses began to prove otherwise, even Tony grew uncomfortable.

“Um... Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” Tony asked, his eyebrows raised in consternation.

Frigga wiped away a few more tears before replying, “Yes. When the boys entered puberty... Loki was rather adept in spells of concealment by then... and Thor found him to be a willing partner in... experimenting. Of course we put a stop to it, but – my poor Loki! – it is obvious now that being so suddenly separated broke his heart. I waited in vain for him to come to me, to seek some comfort and guidance, but he tried to bear it all on his own... We should have told him then – _both_ of them – that they were not blood brothers... perhaps even allowed their love to flourish, to either fade or grow as it would have naturally. Instead we forced them apart, shocked by what had happened, and did not consider that their affection might have been an inevitable outcome of their being raised together. I never knew how deeply it had hurt Loki to lose Thor’s... attentions.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Tony said, watching the screen, “he seems to have _all_ of Clint’s attention now. Good God, he’s doing the corkscrew! Damn... he’s _good_... and if Loki wasn’t lying, Hawkeye has better equipment than ol’ Hammertime... maybe even better technique.”

“Stark!” Steve scolded, appalled at Tony’s crassness in Frigga’s presence.

“What? You gotta admit, Clint is doing some impressive work there. God, if I’d known how talented he was, I would’ve let him fuck _me!_ Just listen to Loki – he’s having the time of his life, dammit. If they went at it like this the last time, no wonder Loki got knocked up. Even _I_ might get pregnant after all that!”

“Would you just...!” Steve choked on all the things he wanted to say to Tony and instead fell silent.

As they watched, Tony in awe and Steve with reluctant but irresistible interest, Loki eventually went down on his elbows, then lowered his head to the bed, leaving only his ass raised up for his lover to access. Clint ceased drilling into that ass for a moment to rub his palms tenderly along Loki’s back and ribs.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Mmm... more than all right,” Loki replied with a wan smile. “Don’t stop – I merely needed to take some weight off my shoulders.”

“Getting tired?”

“Uh... a little,” Loki admitted, surprising Frigga. She knew that he rarely ever admitted to any weakness; it was an indication of how much trust he had already placed in Clint.

The archer pulled out of him and rolled him over onto his side, then leaned down for a long, tantalizing kiss. From the way Loki was panting, it was clear that he wanted more, and Clint did not keep him waiting for long. Repositioning himself to lie behind his lover, Clint wrapped an arm under him to hold and caress his chest. After another lingering kiss over Loki’s shoulder, he penetrated him again and wrapped his free hand around Loki’s cock, pulling up on the loose skin in time to his thrusts while rubbing the sensitive tip with his thumb. The cries of ecstasy spilling out from Loki’s lips increased in intensity as Clint continued to stimulate him.

Natasha and Bruce walked into the command center at that point, wondering what the others were doing – but never suspecting them of blatantly spying on the reunited lovers. The buzz Natasha had gotten from her vodka-and-tonic dissipated at once when she recognized the two men on the screen. Bruce began to mutter something profane, but his words died away as Clint intensified his fucking.

“Ah... Ah... Ah!” Loki whimpered with each mind-numbing stroke. His voice rose in proportion to his pleasure, with an almost feminine quality, which seemed to goad Clint to thrust ever harder and bite all over Loki’s pale skin. Natasha felt as though her feet were rooted to the spot; she did not have the chance to leave the room before Loki was coming in bursts of uncontrollable exhilaration. As his high-pitched cries echoed through both rooms, Clint’s guttural grunts grew louder and more spasmodic. His cock slid in and out of Loki in a frenetic rhythm for a minute, then suddenly drove deep and hard into that welcoming ass. Groaning like a giant tree toppling in a storm, Clint shoved his length all the way up to the balls and still continued to push – once, twice, three times – before letting out a long, satiated sigh. Loki was trembling in his arms, spent and thoroughly exhausted.

“So good,” Clint murmured, licking and kissing the red marks he had made on Loki’s back and shoulders as they began to fade. “Every time... so damn good!”

“Mmm...” Loki agreed, twisting around to demand that some of those kisses be placed on his lips as well. Clint gladly obliged him, kissing every part of his lover’s exposed skin, paying special attention to his dimples since they were now visible. Loki was smiling widely and without artifice. When he wrapped his arms around Clint, the chain on his wrists fell across the Human’s back like a possessive talisman. “My dearest Hawk,” he whispered.

Clint smiled back at him. “My beautiful, sexy... _lovely_ Loki.” After engaging him in another slow, deep kiss, Clint combed back Loki’s now sweat-soaked hair with the tips of his fingers. “The fairest of them all.”

Loki’s smile faded at once, replaced by a question that he dared not ask.

“Yes, you are,” Clint answered with conviction, knowing the doubts that had crossed his lover’s mind. “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and I still can’t believe how lucky I am to make love to you.”

Loki needed to swallow before he could reply, in an attempt to sound lighthearted that did not quite succeed, “Only because... you say the sweetest things.”

“It’s not hard when they’re all true,” Clint insisted, then planted another kiss by Loki’s ear.

The god of mischief flinched and pulled away – or as far as he could while still being cradled in Clint’s strong arms.

“What? What’s the matter?”

Loki shook his head, not trusting his voice since his eyes were filling with tears. He drew in several shuddering breaths while Clint patiently waited for him to start talking again.

“You... You haven’t even seen me... in my _true_ form... as a Jötun... a... a _Frost Giant_ ,” Loki finally managed to say, disgust and loathing obvious in his tone.

Clint regarded him with calm blue eyes for a moment before telling him, “Then you’re the most beautiful Frost Giant I’ve ever met.”

“I’m the _only_ Frost Giant you’ve ever met!” Loki retorted.

“Yeah.” Clint pulled him closer and ran one hand down Loki’s hip to his thigh. “But I bet you have the nicest legs and ass of any of them.”

Loki met Clint’s gaze, almost against his will, and drank in the affirmation he found there. As his tears began to fall, forcing him to sniff, he muttered, “Damn hormones!” and seemed at a loss what to do. Clint roughly pulled him close, then wrapped all of his limbs around Loki’s slender body and let him weep against his shoulder. 


	20. Feral Gnomes

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Tony announced to the room in general, “but I need another smoke after that. Cigar, anyone?”

“Perhaps I _will_ try one of those,” Frigga ventured, stretching her limbs delicately before leaning back in her chair.

While Tony explained to the Asgardian queen the history and art of smoking a fine Cuban cigar, Natasha was finally able to tear her eyes away from the monitor, where Clint was kissing and caressing Loki with a tenderness he’d rarely shown. Taking a deep breath, Natasha was able to walk out of the command center without stumbling, at least. Her legs felt like jelly, but she managed.

Steve watched her leave and felt more concerned by her blank expression than if she’d been crying, as he would have expected. He caught Bruce’s eye and raised his eyebrow in a mute question; Bruce only shook his head and helped himself to a flute of champagne. Still worried, Steve approached him under the pretext of refilling his own glass.

“You sure someone shouldn’t be with her?” he asked quietly.

Bruce grimaced before replying, “Sometimes... you just need to cry it out. Alone.”

Steve considered this statement and raised his glass in acknowledgement of its wisdom. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m no expert in women,” Bruce admitted after taking a sip of his drink, “but she’s about as tough as they come. I think she’ll be all right. Although it was rather a shock to the system, walking in and seeing... _that_ , on the screen. Hell, it was a shock to _my_ system, and I’m not even close to Clint.”

“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Steve said, glancing up at the monitor. It showed Loki resting on his lover’s chest, half asleep, while Clint languidly rubbed his pale back with one hand. Steve added, hoping that Bruce would know more about the matter, “The Queen mentioned something about feral gnomes affecting Hawkeye... Apparently, Loki has thirty times more of them than Asgardian females.”

Bruce had taken another drink of champagne and suddenly spewed it out when his brain translated what Steve had meant. Everybody turned to stare as Bruce coughed, choked, and spluttered.

“I, uh... I’m all right, I’m fine,” he managed to say, then took one look at Steve’s stricken face and started to laugh. It was a helpless, uncontrollable laugh that lasted well over a minute and made tears roll down Bruce’s cheeks. “I... I’m s-sorr—bah-hah-hah-hah-hah!”

“All right, what’s so funny?” Tony demanded. “Share with the rest of the class, dammit.”

Still chuckling, Bruce wiped the tears from his eyes and patted Steve’s shoulder. “Sorry, Cap – it just hit my funny bone, and honestly, I needed a good laugh. Of course you wouldn’t know about pheromones, since they weren’t called that until, oh, fifty years ago. They’re the chemical odors that organisms exude to send signals – like alarm or the location of food – to others of their kind. Sometimes they’re so faint that they’re hardly detectable, but even Humans are affected by other Humans’ pheromones.”

“Oh,” Steve replied, feeling rather stupid.

“What’d you think they were?” Tony asked him.

“I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like ‘feral gnomes’...”

Tony snorted, attempted to stifle it, and burst out laughing all the harder. Bruce was just regaining his composure but seeing Tony lose it made him lapse into another fit of hilarity. Frigga approached to bestow a kind smile on Steve.

“Thor said you had been in cryogenic stasis for a good number of years – a lifetime for you Midgardians,” she mentioned, balancing her lit cigar on a saucer Maria had supplied in lieu of an ashtray. “It is not surprising that you would be unaware of new advances in learning. But one of the difficulties for your race is that you cannot see the world as we do; if you were able, you would understand so much more.”

With a flick of her free hand, Frigga caused sparks of light to appear – tiny, shimmering dots which seemed to hover and pulse with their own energy. There was a light mist of pink surrounding her, as well as blue mists around each of them, except Bruce was almost hidden by a dense cloud. Steve’s plume was also rather thick.

“These scents can tell much about a person, if only you understand the code. It is like an invisible language with which we are speaking all the time,” she said with a smile.

“And what are ours saying?” Tony asked, curiously stirring his own sparks floating in the air with his cigar.

“Yours and mine are saying we are content with our situation,” Frigga answered. “We are open to friendship but not much more. Your friends’ are telling a different story.”

Bruce did not feel the least inclination to laugh any longer. He did, however, feel the urge to hit Steve, and hard, when the man cluelessly asked, “What story is that?”

“You have been without a sexual partner for a very long time,” Frigga stated, her tone matter-of-fact and almost clinical. “You do not feel the lack as keenly as your friend, but both of you would be in better health if you could release your need. It is not good for a man or woman of _any_ species to go for long without pleasure.”

Steve had blushed a bright red and was gaping as though he had swallowed his tongue. Seeing his discomfiture, Bruce was somewhat appeased, although he eyed his own sparkling cloud with weary distaste.

“Maybe you two should hook up and make like Hawkeye and his Loki-mama,” Tony suggested, earning himself a glare from both men. “I’ll even set up some cameras and record it for you – we could all make a killing on some hot man-on-man porn. Throw in a few clips of Hawkeye and Loki going at it like bunnies, and we’ve got ourselves a business!”

“You could actually _sell_ this sort of thing?” Frigga asked, astonished.

“Oh, yeah – _big_ bucks for beautiful boys,” Tony assured her cheerfully.

“How interesting,” she murmured. “On Asgard, nobody would _pay_ to simply view them.”

“Why not?” Tony asked in turn, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion.

Frigga laughed, the musical sound brightening the entire room. “Why would you pay to _watch_ someone making love when it is so much better to be _making_ love oneself?”

“Well. You do have a point there,” Tony conceded with a grin, then took another puff of his cigar.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki was content – happy, even. He did not want to think about having to go back to his cell; he did not want to think about the next minute; he did not want to think at all. He simply wanted to enjoy the present, to luxuriate in the wonderful warmth of being wrapped in Clint’s arms, listening to Clint’s heartbeat with one ear pressed against Clint’s chest. Everything else was irrelevant and, for the moment, insignificant.

“Hey,” Clint’s soft voice broke in on Loki’s consciousness. “You hungry?”

“No,” Loki answered without thinking. The fact was, he had not felt actual hunger in a long while.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. That was a pretty strenuous workout, even by Army standards.”

Loki did not budge as he mumbled, “I suppose you will need to be fed if you’re to remain at peak performance levels.” He sighed as though he were being extremely inconvenienced. “Is there an establishment you deem fit for my refined palate?”

“Hardly,” Clint said with an answering sigh. “Just the Mess. We’re so far out in the middle of nowhere, there’s not even a decent Chinese place nearby.”

Loki gently nudged Clint’s balls with his knee, a gesture of affection he had fallen into the habit of doing in their post-coital haze. “Well, if we’re to leave this room at all, we need to shower.”

“Yeah. Come on, I’ll wash you like I used to; you just have to stand there.”

“Are you implying that I’m lazy?” Loki asked, one eyebrow artfully arched.

“No, I’m not _implying_ anything – I _know_ you’re a spoiled brat.”

Clint did not manage to escape quickly enough to avoid the blows Loki rained down upon his head with a pillow. He slipped and stumbled to the floor, where Loki pursued him with a pillow in each hand. Clint was silently laughing, shaking so hard he could hardly draw a breath, but he managed to grab one of the pillows and fend off the other.

“All right! All right! What do you _want_ me to say?” he asked, still unrepentant.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Loki responded, caught off guard since he hadn’t really thought about it. “Maybe that I don’t _have_ to work hard because I’m smart enough not to.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clint teased, “but I do know that you kept _me_ around to do the heavy lifting. You shouldn’t _have_ to work hard since you’ve got _people_ to do it for you.”

“Damn straight,” Loki declared with a smirk, using the expression he had learned from Clint during their previous time together. “Get up, then, Minion, and wash me!”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Clint answered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word is telling me I've reached 30K words already. How time flies when one is writing porn!  
> Thanks for all the reviews! :D


	21. Bruce and Steve

While the couple disappeared off the monitor into the bathroom (which did _not_ have any hidden cameras, much to Tony’s dismay), Maria offered to show Frigga to her room to freshen up before dinner. Frigga told Tony with a knowing smile that it was useless to hope for a peep show from her quarters, in not so many words, and casually informed Fury that his Midgardian devices would not work if she did not wish it. Fury acknowledged this with a mute inclination of his head as the Queen left the command center with Maria. Tony decided to take the opportunity to work out some of the ideas spawned by his conversations with Frigga, using the facility’s lab.

Bruce sauntered out into the hallway thinking to take a walk. He wanted to clear his head after being bombarded with so much unexpected information and visual input, and the beer and champagne he had imbibed earlier was not helping him now.

“Dr. Banner!” came Steve’s voice from behind him, so he stopped to wait for the other man to catch up. “I was hoping to pick your brain, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah... what about?”

“About those... pheromones,” Steve said, pronouncing the word carefully. “You obviously know more about them than I do.”

“Well, I did study biochemistry,” Bruce replied with a modest shrug. “What about them?”

“What exactly do they _do?_ You said humans are affected by them; how?”

“In a lot of different ways,” he answered, slowly walking down the corridor with Steve falling into step beside him. “We know that in the animal kingdom, pheromones are used as signals to indicate a readiness for mating or to mark territory – like canines do with urine. Swarm insects like ants can leave a trail to food, and bees can send an alarm through the entire hive in seconds by secreting a specific pheromone. Obviously, human beings aren’t as attuned to scents as those creatures, but we are affected by them – sometimes subconsciously. Women who live in a communal environment often notice that their ovulation cycles become synchronized. Men might be picking up on trace scents to tell them if women are more likely to mate with them... although that’s not been definitively proven yet. Still, the arguments are there, and knowing how it affects other mammals, there’s a strong case for it.”

Steve digested this information. “So you’re saying that there’s not a lot of conclusive evidence, but... it’s likely that they _do_ affect us?”

“I would have to say so, yes. Why?”

“I was just wondering... if they can impair someone’s judgment. If, for instance, someone is putting out thirty times the normal level of them...”

“You’re worried that Clint is being affected,” Bruce stated, finally understanding Steve’s concern. “You’re worried that he only _thinks_ he’s in love with Loki because the pheromones are driving him crazy.”

“Something like that,” Steve answered with a nod. “Is it possible?”

“Possible? ...Yes.”

They came to an intersection so Bruce halted, then took the passage leading to the main bank of elevators.

“That high of a concentration would have to affect someone much more strongly than the usual faint amounts we send out,” Bruce continued. “Whether it would be enough to actually _impair_ someone’s judgment... that’s hard to say.” Reaching the elevators, he pushed the button and entered the first door that opened. “I’m going above ground; I need some fresh air after everything that’s happened today. Care to join me?”

“I could use some fresh air myself,” Steve said, entering the elevator. “So... how would you be able to tell if it’s affecting someone to the point where they’re making bad decisions based on... what they’re feeling, subconsciously, from being affected by the pheromones?”

“I don’t think there’s a litmus test for that. And since individuals are affected differently by it – our degree of sensitivity to it as well as the amount of influence it has on our decision-making process is vastly different – it would be a subjective assessment at best. At this point, there’s really no way for us to know.” Bruce thought for a moment and added, “Queen Frigga might be able to give you a better answer. Asgardian science is light-years ahead of ours, and she seemed to have a more... _tangible_ grasp on the subject.”

“Yes. But whether she would be forthcoming with the information is another matter,” Steve pointed out. “Loki is her son, after all, and she seems to like the idea of Clint being with him.”

“She wants her kid to be happy... Can’t say that I blame her,” Bruce said as he stepped out of the elevator onto the observation deck. The sun was just setting in a bright golden glow, with a pale half-moon visible overhead and a few stars beginning to shine in the east. Bruce walked over to the guard rail and bent over to lean on it with his arms crossed; Steve followed and gripped the top rail.

“I guess I’m worried because this is all happening so fast,” Steve said after taking in a deep draught of the cool, clean air. “I can see where Clint would want to take care of the baby, of course, but... I don’t understand how he can truly be in love with Loki – the man who captured him and made him betray everything he believes in.”

“That _is_ a mind-bender, isn’t it?” Bruce agreed. “When he jumped over the table to get at Loki, I thought he was going to strangle him and cause an intergalactic incident. I didn’t expect him at all to... _kiss_ him.”

“Exactly.” Steve watched an airplane, a tiny dot far above them, speeding away to its destination. “I think we should at least tell Clint about Loki’s pheromones, so he realizes that he might be influenced by them.”

“We could. I’m not sure it would do any good if he’s as far gone as he seems.” Bruce straightened and turned to lean his backside against the railing, facing Steve. “In the end, Cap, love might be just a collection of chemicals; our attraction to other people might be affected more by chemistry than anything else. Right now Loki may have an unfair advantage over... other people,” he amended, faltering as he almost mentioned Natasha by name, “but who’s to say that’s not real love?”

“It sounds so... scientific and... _cold_... when you put it that way,” Steve confessed, making Bruce smile.

“You’re a romantic, then?”

“...I suppose I am.”

“Well, just because we can explain how attraction _works_... doesn’t make it any less amazing, or miraculous, when it spontaneously _happens_.”

“Oh,” Steve said, surprised by Bruce’s remark. He considered it, then nodded. “I guess knowing how a flower grows doesn’t detract from its beauty.”

“Right. Or anything else. Like the beauty of a sunset: I know it’s caused by atmospheric particles – dust and pollutants, if you come down to it – but I can still appreciate the colors.”

“Careful, Doctor,” Steve warned with a grin. “You’re beginning to sound like a romantic yourself.”

“Well, I... I suppose I am,” Bruce admitted with an answering grin. “But the scientific side of me did notice that nobody else in the room felt compelled to kiss Loki... so maybe their attraction runs deeper than pheromones, after all.”

“Oh!” Steve said, startled by the thought. “You’re right... nobody else felt that kind of attraction towards Loki. And Clint had been separated from him all this time.” He smiled in relief. “Maybe there _is_ something more than chemicals making him act that way.”

“I think so... at least I hope so.” Bruce’s smile turned somewhat ironic as he added, “If pheromones affected us that dramatically, I’d be getting kissed all the time – even by perfect strangers – if the cloud Queen Frigga showed me is real.”

“Hm... I wouldn’t be far behind you,” Steve said, “although I’m not sure I _want_ to be kissed by strangers.”

Bruce laughed. “No, I wouldn’t recommend it. Not in this day and age, anyway – too many nasty diseases have spread across the globe.”

“Oh... right. They told me you were doing charity work in India... You must have seen a lot of difficult cases there.”

Bruce nodded soberly. “Yes. What was most frustrating was knowing that there were cures available, even preventative vaccines, but seeing the people still suffering from curable illnesses.”

“Well, I’m sure you helped a lot of people – people who wouldn’t have gotten help if not for you. That’s very admirable.”

Blushing, Bruce turned away and shrugged, “Not really. I was just... trying to atone for my sins... for the damage I had done.”

“You don’t have to atone for something you did when your body was out of your control,” Steve protested, feeling horrified since he had brought up the subject.

“That’s kind of you to say,” Bruce replied with a faint smile, “but regardless of how much control I had or didn’t have at the time, the fact is I hurt a lot of people. And when you have that sort of guilt on your conscience... you have to do _something_ to make up for it. At least, that’s how I feel.”

“That’s because you’re a good man,” Steve said, reaching out to grip Bruce’s shoulder and making him laugh in a self-deprecating way.

“Well, I try to be, if that counts for anything.” Bruce noticed that Steve had stepped closer to him – invading his personal space, as it were – which made him feel slightly uneasy and uncomfortable. He coughed to dispel his own awkwardness and stood up. “I think it must be about time for dinner.”

“That sounds good. Shall we?” Steve asked with a charming smile, and Bruce nodded and followed him back into the elevator.


	22. The Mess

Clint thought it was rather endearing how self-conscious Loki became in the shower. The pregnant demigod had been so caught up in their love-making that he had forgotten his condition; when he looked down and saw his protruding stomach, he tried uselessly to cover it with a washcloth. Clint snatched the washcloth from his hands.

“Hey!” he said, getting up into Loki’s downcast face so he would have to meet Clint’s eyes. “You’re beautiful, okay? And I’m looking forward to watching your belly grow huge, and I’m gonna kiss every beautiful inch of it, all right? The bigger and heavier this kid gets, I want you to remember it’s because _I_ was inside of you, because _my_ cock was inside your ass, that we’ve got this baby – this amazing, mind-blowing miracle of a kid. All right?”

Loki nodded, not trusting his voice to speak without wavering. Clint rewarded him by kissing his lips, then trailing kisses down to his chest, taking time to tease his nipples, and kneeling at Loki’s feet to kiss all over the small bump. Loki thought the fetus might have rolled over inside its protective sac but was not sure enough to mention it. He was relieved beyond words, anyway, that the archer did not think his changing body was ugly. Loki had not even dared to hope that his former captive might be willing to become his lover again, let alone be so enthusiastic in anticipating the birth of their child. He kept waiting to wake up and find that it had all been a dream, while wishing the dream would never end.

Clint made short work of cleaning them both off once he started the process, his usual efficiency mixed with loving, tender gestures. Loki was not sure why the Human pinched his buttocks, but the sly smile on Clint’s face told him it was meant in fun, so he retaliated by pinching Clint’s at the next opportunity. Hearing his lover laugh was like music to his ears; his kisses were all the sustenance Loki’s hungry soul needed. But even though he felt no need for food, he knew Clint, as a mortal, could not go for long without it, so he agreed without much thought to accompany his lover to “the Mess” as he called it. Loki just wanted to be close to Clint, knowing that every second they could spend together was precious.

Clint grasped Loki’s hand and intertwined their fingers in an impulsive and somewhat uncharacteristic display of intimacy, but he had done so with the understanding that Loki craved affection – he _needed_ to be reassured of Clint’s love for him. It still irked him how quickly Thor had abandoned his supposed brother and lover, leaving Loki with more self-doubt than he let on and forcing him to compensate with false arrogance and pride. Just like when Clint had first found Natasha – defensive and belligerent because her experiences had taught her to distrust all others – once he had realized how insecure Loki was, Clint not only could relate to him better but also felt protective of him. After seeing through the mask to Loki’s vulnerable heart, Clint could no more abandon him than he could have an injured child.

As they walked down the corridors to the Mess Hall, passing other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents returning from their dinner, Loki noticed how many of them stared at him and Clint, especially at their clasped hands. He thought Clint would let go at any moment, but when the Human steadfastly held on to him, Loki felt a long-forgotten warmth spreading through his chest. It did not matter that Clint’s ruddy face seemed a bit tinged with pink; the important thing was that he did not let go in spite of his embarrassment. Loki walked a little closer to him yet, struggling to focus on Clint’s running commentary about the layout of the facility.

He knew they were close to the Mess when they turned a corner and heard the low roar of mingled sounds, cutlery clashing and multiple conversations going on at once. The next moment the smell of cooking oil assaulted Loki’s nostrils, and suddenly Loki remembered that he had not had the bile removed from his body since that morning. It had built up for hours now, and the scent of fried foods caused his stomach to lurch, churn, and traitorously rebel.

Loki did not even have the chance to call out Clint’s name – he simply yanked on the archer’s hand as he turned back and retched, pressing his free hand to his mouth. Clint realized instantly what was happening and wrapped his arm around Loki’s waist, half-leading and half-hauling him away from the cafeteria.

“I’m sorry! I should’ve thought... Are you all right?” he asked, pulling Loki around the corner again and looking into his pallid face. Loki shook his head, feeling the bile rising in his throat. “Come on,” Clint said, dragging him toward a door and then knocking on it. When there was no answer, he pulled it open and led Loki inside. To the demigod’s relief, it was a bathroom, with a row of sinks he could just manage to stagger to before the violent eruption began. As the green bile hit the sparkling porcelain, Clint turned on the water and stroked up and down Loki’s back, helping him relax enough to allow nature to take its course. When the worst was over, Clint rinsed some paper towels in the next sink, then used them to wipe the clammy sweat off Loki’s face.

“Poor baby,” Clint murmured, concern furrowing his brow. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault – I should’ve known better than to bring you down here! I’m _so_ sorry...”

Loki could not answer; he was having trouble even standing, since his body was trembling with the sudden battle that had raged through it. Clint saw him swaying on his feet and reached out to embrace him, letting Loki lean against his solid frame until he could catch his breath. Resting against his lover’s body, trusting in his support, Loki felt his world go from upheaval to calm. The clean scent of the shampoo and body wash on Clint’s skin was a welcome distraction which also erased the lingering odor memory of the grease. Loki inhaled deeply as he clung to the archer.

They were both startled when the door was flung open and Frigga flew into the privy.

“Loki! My poor darling!” she cried, encircling both men in her arms. “I’m sorry I could not get here sooner. Hold still, my dearest, and I’ll rid you of the rest of that nastiness.”

“Mother, you don’t have to—” Loki began, but both Frigga and Clint were propping him against the sink counter in preparation for the procedure. Loki swallowed and acquiesced, grateful to have one of Clint’s hands steadying his back and the other gripping his own. He squeezed it lightly as he felt the viscous fluid being drained out of his stomach and disposed of into nothingness, then sighed with relief. “Thank you,” he said in a subdued tone, feeling some strength returning to his limbs and realizing Frigga had done that as well.

Maria had followed the queen into the bathroom and was observing them with interest.

“The smell from the Mess did him in,” Clint explained to her. “Sorry we had to use the ladies’ room – it was the closest.”

“That’s quite all right,” she replied. “In fact, we were just coming to tell you that we have a separate dining room prepared for our guests. It will be quieter and I hope less... problematic.”

“That sounds lovely. Thank you,” Loki managed as he stood up straight on his own. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to... clean up, for a moment.”

“Of course,” Maria said before leaving. There was a brief, awkward moment when both Clint and Frigga lingered, each expecting to be the one to assist Loki; Frigga smiled and withdrew first.

“I know you are taking good care of my son,” she told Clint, laying a hand on his shoulder, “but we should set the times when I need to remove the bile from his stomach. His body is changing on a cellular level to accommodate the child, so the bile is a combination of dead tissue that is being discarded in favor of new tissues – such as his womb – and the waste eliminated by the child itself. His sickness is much worse than for a woman, who already has those organs; Loki is having to grow them now, and quickly, to keep pace with the child’s development.”

“I can see that it’s quite draining,” Clint remarked while they both watched Loki wash his hands and face, then cup some water to rinse his mouth. Clint grabbed more paper towels out of the dispenser and handed them to Loki, who dried himself off with care.

“I’m sorry to trouble you like this,” he said, turning to Frigga. “I should have remembered that it would have built up again by now.”

“It’s all right, dearest. You must have been a little... _distracted_.”

Both men blushed, even though Frigga’s smile was innocence itself.

“Now if you are ready, let us not keep our hosts waiting,” she declared, then led the way out of the bathroom. This time Clint offered Loki his entire arm, to lean on for support if necessary, and Loki gladly wrapped his own around it. 


	23. Dinner Party

Loki was charming at dinner, assisting Frigga in keeping the conversation light and engaging, but Clint noticed that he merely picked at his food, even though it was the best the facility’s kitchen could offer. The steak he had ordered cooked medium well rather than medium rare, which had been his preference the last time he had visited Earth (although Clint realized why his tastes might be different now), and he ate maybe half of it. The only thing Loki finished was his small portion of salad, and that over time. The wine he did not touch, asking instead for hot herbal tea – something he had discovered and enjoyed during his previous stay.

Loki caught Clint staring at him often but only smiled in reply, slipping his hand onto Clint’s knee to reassure him that he was fine. Clint wasn’t buying it, of course, but he didn’t want to press Loki in front of the others. Tony and Bruce were gleaning precious nuggets of scientific information from both of their Asgardian guests; Steve was courteous and respectful, even to Loki; and Fury, while not thrilled to be hosting two powerful aliens (one of whom was a known aggressor), was at least being professional.

Clint turned to the end of the table where Maria and Natasha were seated. Natasha seemed to be avoiding his gaze, which was understandable, although it lay heavily on his heart. They had been an item at one time and he still considered her his best friend, but they had agreed long ago that their relationship was best kept casual. The nature of their work, and the hectic schedule it demanded, made a conventional romance impossible. And the one time Clint had brought the subject up, Natasha had made it clear that she did not intend to settle down and become a mainstream domestic goddess. The mere thought of driving children to soccer practice every day in a minivan, she had declared, was enough to make her put a bullet in her own head. Clint did not need any proof, and at the time he had agreed with her full-heartedly.

And yet it was strange how happy and excited he now felt about the prospect of having a child – a son, if Loki’s extrasensory perception was correct. He found himself looking forward to fatherhood, teaching his boy the sorts of things fathers had been teaching their sons for time immemorial: how to play catch, how to build a fire, how to fish, how to hunt. The last one in particular sparked his imagination (while the conversation over dessert turned to technical things beyond his ken or interest) and set him to thinking about different bows that would be easy for little hands to handle. He had almost finished designing the perfect custom-built bow in his mind when he saw Loki put a hand on his stomach. The brief shadow that crossed the demigod’s face spoke of uncertainty and concern.

Clint placed his own hand on Loki’s belly and leaned close to whisper in his ear: “It’ll be all right. You’ll see. We can work anything out... _together_.”

The grateful smile Loki gave him was so lovely that Clint kissed him without thinking. The conversation around them skidded to a halt.

“Geez, guys – get a room!” Tony complained, breaking the awkward silence. “Oh, wait – you already _have_ a room. Couldn’t you wait until you got back to it, at least?”

An even more awkward silence ensued, since all of them knew exactly what the pair had been doing in said room. However, not knowing about the hidden camera, Clint retorted, “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a squeamish one, Stark. Besides, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Well, ah... while that statement is open for debate,” Tony hedged, “maybe you should save your best material for the main performance?”

“Oh, I _am_ ,” Clint said with a grin as he turned to Loki. The demigod pursed his lips and let a sultry smirk grow across his features. For an instant, they were lost in each other’s eyes.

“That reminds me,” Frigga began, making the others wonder what had actually reminded her to ask, “earlier you had mentioned, Clint, that you intend to visit Loki every day. How were you planning on doing that?”

“Well, I hadn’t really thought it through,” Clint confessed, “but I’m a firm believer that ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’ I guess I was hoping to find some sort of work over in your world so I could be close by... not that there would be much call for a Human, I suppose, since we’re so much less... _advanced_ than your people, but I don’t care what I do as long as it’s honest work.”

“There is always work to be found, even though it might be menial,” Frigga assured him. “But I have been told that you are an excellent archer. The palace guard has a special division of archers, the Herǫr Drengr, which might suit you best.”

“Oh, uh... that’s very, um... kind of you,” Clint replied, “but I’m not sure... I’d be up to snuff, so to speak, for your people... being a Human and all...”

“You would be a valuable asset to them,” Loki suddenly put in. “I know you will – I’ve seen you shoot.”

“Then you should apply to the chief archer,” Frigga followed up. “They test all applicants, of course, so you would be accepted or denied according to your skill alone. If I grant you permission to dwell in Asgard, they cannot deny you solely for being Human.”

“That’s... That’s very generous of you. Thank you,” Clint said to the Queen.

“Does this mean I should expect a letter of resignation in the morning?” Fury asked, his expression stony.

“Yes,” Clint answered without hesitation, making Loki start. “I’m sorry, Commander.”

“I don’t see why it should mean he must resign his post here,” Frigga interrupted. “Why could he not be working with our military as a liaison? Perhaps as a man ‘on loan’ from Midgard.” She gave Fury her most disarming smile and added, “I can think of at least _one_ Asgardian warrior who would be glad to serve as a man ‘on loan’ to Midgard in his place... if it’s agreeable with you.”

“Are you saying... you would have Thor be ‘on loan’ to S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Fury asked in disbelief.

“I think he could be persuaded to, yes. Love is a great incentive, after all,” she said demurely.

“No offense, Hawkeye, but it sounds like we’re getting the better end of the deal,” Tony declared, rubbing his hands together. “But hey, if _every_ body’s gonna be happy, it’s a win-win!”

“Yeah,” Clint answered, his eyes still locked with Loki’s. “Seems like things will work out, after all.”

Loki smiled, but Clint sensed that it was somewhat forced. He did not try to delve into the reason then, however, knowing that he would have plenty of time later to ply his secretive lover with questions.

As the party left the dining room, Frigga expressed a desire to see the Midgardian constellations again, so Maria led her up to the observation deck, and Tony asked Bruce to help him experiment with some of the concepts they had garnered from Asgardian technology. Steve and Fury were escorting Loki and Clint back to their room when Clint stopped at an intersecting hallway.

“You go on ahead,” Clint said, trying to unwrap Loki’s arm from his own. “I’ll be right there.”

“What? Where are you going?” Loki demanded, alarmed.

“I’m going to pick up some Hooah bars,” Clint explained. “You hardly ate anything at dinner, and you’re supposed to be eating for _two_ now.” He gave Loki a peck on the cheek while rubbing his belly affectionately. “The bars aren’t the best tasting things, but they’ve got a lot of nutrition in them. Even if you only eat a few bites, it should help.”

“Let me come with you,” Loki said, not releasing his hand. The undisguised longing in his wan face tugged at Clint’s heart, making him pull Loki down into a deeper, more expressive kiss. After a minute, Steve coughed and Fury cleared his throat. Clint grinned as he pulled away from Loki but did not take his eyes off his lover.

“You’re so beautiful, I could do you right here,” he whispered.

“And I would let you,” Loki murmured back.

“Gentlemen, if you’d like to order _room service_ ,” Fury began, not bothering to suppress a longsuffering sigh, when Steve started walking down the other hallway.

“You mean the new Logan Bars – the D-Ration bars, right?” he called back over his shoulder.

“Um, yeah.” Clint wrenched his gaze off of Loki for a moment. “Cap, you don’t have to...”

“I know.” Steve turned to them with a chuckle. “You two lovebirds go on. I’ll knock three times and leave them at the door.”

“You’re a prince, Captain,” Clint told him, meaning it. “A real prince!”

Loki watched Steve’s retreating figure with a thoughtful expression for a moment before Clint tugged on him to lead him back to the bedroom. Fury followed with another sigh, wondering what pantheon of gods he had angered to be forced to chaperone two grown men who could barely keep from making out in the corridors of a military installation. 


	24. Loki Interrogated

Once back in their room, Clint turned down the bed for the first time; earlier they had made love on the bedspread and had never gotten into the bed itself. He stripped out of his clothes while Loki watched appreciatively, then he undressed Loki like a servant – the way Loki had trained him to during their previous time together. This time, however, Clint peeled through the layers of Asgardian clothing with less haste and more innuendo, placing kisses on various spots of the bared skin as a foretaste of what he intended to do later. Feeling Loki shiver under his lips was a thrill that set the archer’s heart pounding.

Although his cock was clamoring for action as they lay side-by-side in bed, since he had already satisfied it more than once today, Clint wanted to take things slow. He knew it was tantamount to blackmail to question Loki now, when his lover was just as eager for a good fucking as he was, but he wasn’t sure he could get a straight answer out of him otherwise.

“Hey,” he said, halting their kissing session before it got too heated. “What was eating at you during dinner?”

“Ah... what?” Loki asked in turn, confused by the expression. “Oh, you mean... what was troubling me?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing. I simply didn’t have much of an appetite after... what had happened earlier.”

“That’s not all,” Clint insisted, though he softened the impact of his words by stroking Loki’s bare back. “There were a few times when you looked... as if you were miles away. Worlds, even. What’s bothering you?”

Loki attempted to shrug but could not look Clint in the eye. Taking that as a warning sign, Clint pulled him into an embrace.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yes... although I’m not sure why.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean... this is all so... _strange_.” Loki kept his hands on Clint’s shoulders and his cheek pressed against Clint’s grizzled jaw as he began to unravel his shroud of mystery. “I never expected you to claim this child as yours, let alone want to be with me again... I feel like this is all a dream or some elaborate delusion I’ve tricked myself into believing... or maybe someone else has cast a spell on me, I don’t know. If that’s what it is, I hope I never wake up.”

The fierce kiss he gave Clint left a mark on his neck. Feeling the sting, Clint groped for the right words to say.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I claim my kid? I mean, it’s obviously mine, whether I claim him or not... unless you were cheating on me with some other guy, and I know you couldn’t have – not while we were together, since you didn’t have the time. And you’ve been in an Asgardian prison ever since.” Clint pulled back a bit so he could study Loki’s face. “And why _wouldn’t_ I want to be with you again? You’re beautiful... smart... sexy... a bit sarcastic, sure, but I like that in a man.”

Loki smiled at the joke but responded gravely, “I tried to subjugate your entire world, and as soon as my spell on you was broken, you fought to defend it... and you even tried to kill me. You couldn’t have, of course, with such a small explosion, but you didn’t know that.”

Clint realized they had come to the crux of the matter. “That was before I remembered everything. I was still dazed and confused,” he protested. “I only knew my world was under attack, so yeah, I was fighting to save it. That’s just instinct.”

“Yes. A warrior’s instinct.”

“And... you’d hurt me, you know. You’d messed up my mind so badly, I wasn’t sure which way was up when I came out of it. I thought if I could put an arrow through your head, I would sleep better at night.”

Loki averted his eyes before answering, “It was never my intent to harm you. Had I released you from the spell myself, you would not have felt so... disoriented.”

“Would you have? Released me?”

“Perhaps... eventually. Once I could count on your loyalty without resorting to magic.”

Clint leaned in to kiss Loki’s lying lips – the first time he had ever used that particular tactic of interrogation.

“No,” Loki whispered after a moment. “I would never... have released you. You were too valuable to me. And you would never have given me your loyalty of your own free will.” He swallowed hard, remembering that day all too clearly. “I knew, of course, the instant you were wrested away. I had just pressed the button to eject Thor out of the craft... I thought if I could kill him, I would feel better too. Funny, that – how we both sought revenge for the pain we had been inflicted...”

“Did it help?”

“No,” Loki admitted, squeezing his eyes shut against the memory. “I just knew... I’d lost my brother forever. I tried to tell myself... I didn’t need him anymore, because I had you... and then... I lost you as well. I was... alone again. As I always have been. After all, you were little more than a puppet on my strings.”

“Loki,” Clint began, but the demigod smirked and stopped him with a gentle kiss.

“I’d deluded myself into half-believing that it was true... that you were really my lover, not my pawn. Such a lovely lie... but a lie nonetheless.”

“You were lonely,” Clint said – a statement, not a question. Loki did not deny it.

“I should have realized... you would leave me. Even if I had kept you in my thrall forever, I would have known, in my heart of hearts, that you would rebel against me at the first opportunity. I might have controlled your mind and your actions, but not your heart. And so, when I sensed that our bond had been broken... that you weren’t coming to rescue me like the prince in a Midgardian fairy tale... I should not have been so surprised.”

Clint grimaced at remembering the stories he had told Loki to entertain him. His then-master had devised the plan for his own capture after hearing some of them and teased Clint that he would be the noble prince, come to rescue his captured darling.

“But you _were_ surprised?” Clint asked, wondering how deep Loki’s self-delusion had been.

“Perhaps ‘surprised’ is not the best word... but it left me off my guard enough for the little man to shoot me with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s new weapon. That stung – perhaps my pride more than my body. But it reminded me that I had no time to mourn your loss.”

“You... ‘mourned’ for me?”

“Yes. Later. Alone in my cell.” Loki sighed and slid his chained hands down Clint’s chest. “I wondered if things might have turned out differently... if only you had been at my side till the end. But it seems the Norns have cursed me in this, as in all other things.”

“What do you mean?”

The nonchalant shrug Loki gave did not convince Clint in the least that he did not care.

“It seems I’m fated to have my lovers taken from me... usually by force. Thor, you... Anybody I have ever cared about has been ripped away from me, sooner or later. The only one who seems immune to the curse is my mother... the Queen. But not even the Norns can curse _her_. She is too pure of heart.”

Clint combed back Loki’s hair as he considered what he had just heard. “So who else has been taken from you?” he finally asked.

“There was once a palace guard... some years older than I. Handsome. Bright. From a good family. He kept watch over me as I spent my evenings in the library... often until quite late, but he never seemed to mind. He asked me about the books I was reading, and I was impressed with how many he had read himself. Thor had long discarded me for the delights of women, and... Svástir was kind. I thought, perhaps, I might be happy with him...”

“What happened?” Clint prompted when Loki trailed off.

“His parents found him a wife,” Loki replied, his tone bitter. “One with a dowry fit for a king. Her father was a merchant in need of a capable assistant, and his father was convinced he would do better in business than as a soldier.”

“But... didn’t he love you?”

“I had believed him to,” Loki said, and a small sigh escaped his lips. “I had certainly made no secret of my affection for him... but he said I was too young to know my own mind. Imagine that! If I didn’t know my own mind at _any_ age, I should be a fool indeed!”

Clint did not allow Loki to distract him with that remark but instead held him closer in his arms.

“So he married the girl? When he could have been the lover of a prince? Possibly even... the future king of Asgard?”

“Yes. And which is the greater fool, I shall let you decide.”

“I won’t be so stupid,” Clint told him.

Loki gazed at him with haunted eyes. “You won’t need to be. I will again never be let out from my cell.” 


	25. Real Reasons

“You don’t know that,” Clint countered. “Things change. People change. Once the baby’s born, even Odin might have a change of heart. It’s... well, it’s the closest thing he’s got to a grandchild, right?”

Loki snorted, a sardonic grin twisting his features. “Why would he even _begin_ to claim the child? He has made it clear that I am not his son, and by now all of Asgard – if not all the Nine Realms – must know that I am Jötun. And then you, the father, are a Midgardian mortal. Even if the Norns, in some fickle fancy of generosity, grant that the child be powerful and brilliantly intelligent... it would not be enough to tempt the All-Father to give it more than a passing glance. And even if he _were_ to show more than a cursory interest in the child, it would have no bearing on _my_ status.” Loki’s slender fingers gripped Clint’s shoulders as he insisted, “I will never have another reprieve from my punishment. This time I have with you... is the most precious of my life. Every word, every touch... I will cherish forever.”

“You told me that... once before,” Clint said, his brow furrowed. “Just before you erased my memory.”

“Yes. You were not supposed to remember that,” Loki replied, chagrined.

“But I’m glad I do, now. That’s what made me fall in love with you, you know – realizing _why_ you were doing what you were doing.”

Loki, startled, looked at his lover askance. “And why was that?”

“You had put me under your mind control because... well, to start with, so I would do your bidding and get what you needed; but also because you were afraid that without it, I would abandon you and leave you hurting... like Thor did. Like what’s-his-name, the guard, did. You were just scared and... _tired_ of being hurt.”

Loki blinked and stared at Clint blankly for a long moment, then admitted, “Yes... I suppose I was. And my fears were well-founded, of course – you shot at me the first chance you had. Even Thor, for all his arrogance and cruelty, had never tried to _harm_ me... until I had attacked him first.”

“I won’t apologize for that, Loki,” Clint told him. “You were trying to take over my world at the time, after all. But I understand why you were doing that, too: you were trying to prove to your dad that you could do a better job of being a king than Thor... maybe even trying to prove to yourself that you didn’t need your dad’s help to _get_ a kingdom. And while I would normally object to having my world conquered by anybody, some of your plans that you told me about – like putting an end to war and making sure everybody had enough food – sounded really good. Hell, if I had powers like yours and had been raised to be a king, I might have tried the same thing. Not that it would have worked, you know, and not that I’m condoning how you went about it, but still... I can understand why you tried.”

As Clint spoke, a sad smile had crept into Loki’s face. The god of lies took a deep breath before revealing a truth, but it had been a long time since anyone had even _tried_ to understand him, and he was startled to realize that he _wanted_ this Human to understand him.

“You’re very perceptive for a mortal,” he said without meaning to slight his lover. “Of course, you’ve seen more of my heart than any other... more than I intended you to, at times. And so you understand me better than any other, except perhaps my mother. But those aren’t the real reasons why I attacked Midgard.” Loki laughed, and it came out as a bitter sound. “I didn’t even _want_ to rule Midgard. Why would I? Such a tiny, backward planet. I might as well have ruled Svartalfheim, a barren wasteland. There’s little glory in conquering and subduing an anthill.”

“Wh-What?” Clint asked, confused. “You didn’t even _want_...? But then... _why_...?”

“It was the only choice I had,” Loki said, his tone quiet and resigned. “I had been rescued from the Void by Thanos... a being so powerful that I cannot even describe him in a way you would understand. He deduced my origins easily enough – my Asgardian garb told him that much – and demanded that I help him gain access to the royal weapons vault of Asgard, where there are many treasures which would make him even more powerful. I... refused. Despite all I had suffered at the hands of Odin... and despite the fact Asgard had never been my true home, any kindness I had ever known had come from my – from Queen Frigga.” Loki’s chest tightened as he corrected himself, but he forged on. “I knew that once Thanos gained new powers, he would want to test them, and he would not have spared the Queen solely for any... sentiment, I might have expressed. He... tortured me, but I chose death over betraying the only one who had ever loved me.”

“Loki,” Clint whispered, stroking his hair. The demigod smiled.

“It was not a hard decision. I had already chosen death, had given myself up to it. The pain... that was another matter.” Loki rubbed his left wrist, just above the manacle, although there were no marks left on his skin. “I thought I would go mad... Thanos could have killed me at any time, but he preferred to make sport of me... and he was also sifting through my mind, as a child might sift through sand looking for shells and pebbles. He found something he thought useful: my hatred of Midgard. Not even of Midgard as a whole, really, just... Jane Foster. And he had already sensed the presence of the Tesseract there, so when he relieved me from the pain and offered me the task of conquering Midgard instead, to present him with the Tesseract... I gladly agreed.”

Clint stared at him, feeling as though the last pieces of a puzzle were finally fitting into place, allowing him to see the entire picture.

“So you attacked Earth... so you wouldn’t have to attack Asgard,” he concluded for him. “You chose to attack the woman you hated so your mother wouldn’t be harmed.”

Loki smirked, attempting to look carefree, although he fooled no one. “It’s not so difficult a choice, is it? Especially when you put it that way. One minor, backward realm scarcely makes a difference in the grand scheme of things. And Thanos had promised me a kingdom, as paltry as it might be... More importantly, it bought me time.”

“Time? For what?”

“To do something. To make a plan. To warn... Queen Frigga, or at least to remove her to a safe place. I could have lured her away from the palace; there’s not much she would not do for me. And as long as I continued to make myself useful to Thanos, I could hope to protect her.” Loki sensed Clint’s arguments before he even spoke them. “I know, you think I was a fool to believe Thanos would keep me as his lackey for long, useful or not – but I never deluded myself on that point. I knew he would kill me when my usefulness had run its course, perhaps even sooner... but I was also gambling on Odin putting up a good fight. He would have the weapons in the vault to use against the Tesseract, and the old man still has a few tricks that might keep Thanos at bay. That, too, would buy me some time, and if Thanos were injured or weakened... I might have found an opportunity to tip the balance of power. I would have understood more about the workings of the Tesseract by then and might have found some way to use it against him.”

“Sounds like a long shot to me,” Clint said, feeling his blood run cold at the dire situation his lover had faced.

“It was,” Loki agreed, “but it was better than having no chance at all. If I had led Thanos into the vault, he would have obliterated the new Destroyer in moments, and once he had gained the powers from the treasures in the vault... there would have been nothing left of Asgard. And he might have chosen to destroy _me_ along with it. So you see, I truly had no other choice but to invade Midgard.”

“It was the devil’s alternative,” Clint slowly stated, “but you’re right – it was better than no chance at all.”

“Neither I nor Thanos had expected to meet any real resistance, of course, so it was a shock to have the Chitauri defeated,” Loki continued. “I had wondered about their dependence on their power system... They do not eat food for sustenance, like most races do, but take their energy directly from their mother ship’s catalytic distributor. It was a critical flaw, but they never expected your Midgardian weapons to penetrate so deep past their defenses.” Loki reflected for a moment and added, “I suppose I owe you and your friends _some_ gratitude... for releasing me from Thanos’ grip. Although if he acquires another weapon like the Tesseract and uses it to attack Asgard, I will be in no position to save myself.”

“You think he might attack again?”

“I am certain he will... when the time is right. He will wait until he knows he has the advantage.”

“Have you warned Odin?” Clint demanded. Loki shrugged, and this time his nonchalance was genuine.

“No. He’s never asked. And any information I have on Thanos is... rudimentary. I know nothing that would help to defeat him.” 


	26. Thor Visits Jane

When Thor arrived at Jane Foster’s apartment, escorted by a small contingent of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, he was confronted at the door by a rather upset Jane demanding answers. He explained that he had been compelled to deal with the aftermath of Loki’s invasion, taking his brother back to Asgard immediately to be judged by the All-Father, and that he had known Jane was safe thanks to Phil Coulson’s arrangements. It mollified Jane enough that she invited him into her apartment. The agents remained outside; though it irked Thor that they did not leave altogether, he had more important matters on his mind. He wished to ask Jane to come to Asgard with him but did not know how she would respond to his request.

“So,” Jane began while nervously putting things away, “why are you here now? Has everything been taken care of?”

“Well... it’s a... complicated story,” Thor hedged. “Loki had some... unfinished business, in a manner of speaking, with one of the men he had captured...”

“Oh, he came to apologize? That’s nice,” Jane said with a hint of sarcasm.

“No, not exactly... Uh... May I sit?”

Jane nodded and cleared off the cluttered table. She had only been given a few hours’ notice that Thor was on his way, so she had not been able to finish cleaning the entire apartment. Thor took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Just after I was banished from Asgard and sent here to Midgard, Loki found out that he was... adopted. That he is not even Æsir, but a... a Jötun. We call them the Frost Giants, for they are large, and they live in the realm of Jötunheim. My father had found him as an infant during the last war and brought him home to be his son. I did not know of this until after I returned to Asgard. I had always believed him to be my true brother...”

An image of Loki as a child, scampering around the columns in the great hall as Thor chased him, came to his mind. Loki had loved having fun, even if it meant breaking a few rules, and Thor had been right there with him – if he hadn’t instigated the trouble himself. Thor could practically hear Loki’s giggles echoing in the large space, see Loki’s smirk as he turned back to see how much distance he had placed between himself and his less light-footed brother. Thor could almost reach out and grab Loki’s tunic.

“Well... that explains a lot, doesn’t it?” Jane said, breaking into his reverie. “I mean it explains why he could try to kill you in cold blood, if he knew you weren’t his _real_ brother.”

“Yes, I suppose it does... although just because we are not related by blood, does not mean he is not my brother. For all his faults... I still loved him. He... He was the only brother I had.”

Jane nodded sympathetically. “Until he turned psycho and tried to take over the Earth.” She considered Thor’s information for a moment. “Is that pretty typical behavior for his people? Or is he just a psychopath – a deviant who doesn’t or _can’t_ feel empathy for other people?”

“Perhaps a bit of both,” Thor conceded. “I’ve always been told the Jötun are a dangerous and cruel race of monsters, but even so, I do not think they would betray their own family without cause. But I do not know for sure. All I do know is... Loki was not the person I had believed him to be.”

“Wow. That must have been hard for you to find out.”

“It was,” Thor replied, meeting Jane’s concerned gaze. “Although, as you say, it became slightly less painful to think that my own brother had attempted to kill me, knowing he was not my brother by blood... But it was harder to realize that I had _no_ brother. He fell into the Void soon after I returned to Asgard, and we all grieved for him as one lost to us... we thought him to be dead. So when Heimdall saw him here on Earth, working mischief towards some unknown end, we were shocked and horrified. I was sent to retrieve him at once... but you must know how that turned out.”

Jane nodded again. “I watched the Battle of New York on television. It was incredible. But I was glad to see you were helping the Avengers.”

Thor allowed himself to indulge in a smile. He knew better now than to be smug about his conquests, but he felt justifiably proud to have helped defend Jane’s realm.

“It was an honor to fight alongside them – some of the finest warriors I have met.” Thinking of them reminded him why he was here to start with. “One of them, Clint Barton, is an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., but Loki had captured him and bent his will to obey him... along with Erik Selvig, as you know. Clint was disenchanted by force during one of our skirmishes, returned to his right mind in time to assist us in fighting, but... he had been under Loki’s control for days before his rescue. And, apparently, uh...” Thor cleared his throat, struggling not to blush, “during that time, Loki... had uh... had made Clint... share his bed.”

It took Jane a moment to comprehend what Thor had just said. “Oh! You mean... not because they couldn’t get two rooms at the hotel or... anything like that.”

“Exactly.” Thor swallowed and tried hard not to think of Loki, naked, in Clint Barton’s arms. He failed. “They were... lovers.”

“Oh... God, that must be... awkward.”

It was Thor’s turn to nod. “It would not have been so bad, except... Loki’s Jötun body... held a few secrets... none had suspected. He has both male and female organs... or at least, a few female organs.” Knowing that there was no delicate way to reveal it, Thor blurted out, “Loki is now pregnant with Clint Barton’s child.”

Jane’s jaw dropped at the news. “That’s... Oh, my God... That’s... That’s...”

“Yes.” Thor sighed. “It shocked us all... but it explained why Loki had become so ill recently. He is better now, and... we came to Midgard to tell Clint. Although he would not have expected it, either, I thought he had a right to know.”

“Well, yeah... It’s his kid, too,” Jane agreed. “So... how did he take the news?”

“Better than I thought he would. In fact, he seemed... rather pleased to know he had sired a child.”

“Well, that’s good. The baby is going to need at least _one_ stable parent.”

Thor understood what Jane was implying, but it gave him pause. Loki had been quite subdued since finding out about the child, and even his stubborn insistence that Clint not be told was understandable, considering the circumstances. His relief when Clint had full-heartedly embraced the responsibility of having a child – as well as Loki himself – had been palpable to Thor as he sat beside him. The god of thunder had wondered what sort of parent Loki was going to be, and now he thought his brother might turn out to be a rather good one. If the care and concern Loki had expressed for the child’s happiness were any indication, anyway.

“I think... between the two of them, the child will be well cared for,” Thor said aloud. “My mother is thrilled to be having her first grandchild.” Reminded of Frigga’s parting comment, he blushed to the tips of his ears. “She, uh... She is hoping... that this one... would not be the last.”

Jane turned to see Thor flushed crimson and embarrassed, his hands clenched together under the table, and realized what he was saying.

“Oh! Oh... yes. Grandchildren. Yes, of course.”

“Yes?” Thor asked, a little hopefully.

“Ah... that is... yes, I’m sure she would enjoy having... grandchildren.”

“Oh. Yes. Very much so.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jane suddenly stood up. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Ah... That’s... That would be nice. Thank you.”

While Jane searched her cupboards for the coffee, Thor took a deep breath. It was the moment of truth.

“Jane...”

“This isn’t the best brand, but it’s not too bad,” she prattled as she rinsed out the pot.

“Jane.”

“We’ll get some of the good stuff tomorrow...”

“ _Jane_.”

Thor stood behind her and turned her to face him, holding her shoulders gently in both hands.

“I came to ask you... to come to Asgard with me.”

She stared up at him, mouth agape, for a moment. “You... You mean... now? Like, _right now?_ ”

“Today... or tomorrow, perhaps... But yes. I must return Loki to his cell; this was only a temporary reprieve for him to tell Clint Barton in person. When we depart... I would like, very much, if you would come with us.”

Jane thought she might have forgotten how to breathe. She glanced around the kitchen, taking in the dirty dishes and the piles of printed data she had been working on. “I... I can’t,” were the first words out of her mouth. “I... I’m working on this research, and I’m almost done with it, and... oh, my God, Thor... I... I’m so sorry!”

Feeling as though he had been punched in the stomach by The Hulk, Thor attempted to smile but it came out as a grimace. “I... understand. It was too much to ask of you.”

“No, I mean... It’s very sweet of you, and I’m flattered – _very_ flattered – but I’ve got so many things going on right now, and...” Jane looked up at him, desperately hoping to make him understand. “I just need some time! To... tie up loose ends, you know? And... think about it. Really, really think about it. Because it’s not like I’m just... moving to Europe, or something. It’s a pretty big decision. _Huge_.”

Thor nodded slowly. “Yes, of course. But I would not have asked you this if I did not think... if I could not _promise_ you, a good life in my realm.”

“Okay.” Jane fidgeted for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Let’s just call it a rain check, then.”

“A... what?” 


	27. Stockholm Syndrome

Jane finally got around to making coffee after explaining what a rain check was. Over their steaming mugs, Thor asked what she had been doing since he had last seen her, and she went into a detailed account of her research and move to London. Thor listened intently, asking about Midgardian cultural references he could not understand, so it was past midnight when she looked up at the clock.

“Oh, my God! I didn’t realize it was getting so late. When do you have to go back?” she asked.

“Do not worry; there is no need for haste,” Thor answered. “In fact... Loki would prefer that I not return for a while...”

“Oh, right – he gets to be out of his cell for now. That must be a nice break for him.”

“Yes, and he is... well...” Thor could hardly bring himself to say it and almost decided not to, but Jane prompted him.

“And... what?”

“He... He is having a... conjugal visit... with Clint Barton.”

Jane’s eyes grew wider than Thor had ever seen them. “You mean... the man he kidnapped with Erik? The father of the baby?”

“Yes.”

“And the guy... actually _wanted_ to... um... spend time with Loki?”

“Yes.” Thor swallowed, remembering the moment when Clint had embraced his brother. “Loki had expected Clint to still hate him for what he had done, but... he never remarked on it. In fact he was... more than kind to Loki. He seems to... truly care for him.”

“Oh, God. That’s not good,” Jane said, startling Thor.

“Why is it not good?”

“Stockholm Syndrome,” she stated, as though the term would hold any meaning for Thor. Realizing it did not from the demigod’s blank look, she elaborated, “It’s a psychological phenomenon that happens under extreme duress like kidnapping – the victims start to twist their understanding of reality in order to survive, making excuses for the kidnapper and taking his side so wholeheartedly that they forget who they are or what they’re really feeling. It’s a way to trick the mind into believing the lies they need to tell the kidnapper so he won’t hurt them. In some cases women have even claimed to have fallen in love with the perpetrator, and it can take years of therapy to get over it. Erik is still being treated by psychiatrists after getting his brain scrambled by Loki.”

Thor listened to Jane’s description with increasing alarm. “So you mean... Clint does not really love Loki but has _deluded_ himself into thinking he does? Just so he could survive the ordeal?”

“It sure sounds like it. I mean, who would willingly sleep with someone who had kidnapped you and forced you to do things against your will?”

“I must tell Loki at once!” Thor declared, rising from the chair. “He must not be allowed to exploit Clint Barton any further.”

“Wait! Wait,” Jane pleaded, also standing to grab Thor’s arm. “Clint needs to figure it out for himself, and if he hasn’t yet, he’s going to resent you for insinuating that his feelings for Loki are fake. Especially if he’s... if they’re... you know... in the middle of their... _visit_.”

Thor gritted his teeth as the image of Loki and Clint naked together flashed, unbidden, in his mind’s eye; however, he had to admit the truth in Jane’s warning.

“You are right... neither of them will be pleased to hear of this, especially... right now.”

“Exactly. But if you could talk to Clint alone, maybe you can get him to see things more rationally.”

“Perhaps.” Thor considered Jane’s suggestion, trying to understand how a man might be deluded about his own feelings on something of such importance. It was also a test of Thor’s character to attempt to rescue a man from himself when that man was no doubt doing things with Loki – perhaps at that very moment –which upset Thor immensely, even though he feared to admit to himself why.

“Actually,” Jane added, “I would think S.H.I.E.L.D. has put the man under psychiatric care after all he went through. Any decent shrink would have talked to Clint about Stockholm Syndrome, so he should at least be aware of it. That should help you get through to him.”

Thor nodded, but his posture and clenched fists showed his disquiet, so Jane continued, hoping to ease his mind.

“At least they’re getting along well, which is good for the baby, right? Because the baby doesn’t need his or her two dads arguing all the time or not talking at all; it’s good that they’re, uh... establishing a good relationship. Or, um, at least trying to turn it _into_ a good relationship.”

“Yes,” Thor conceded, “for the sake of the child... it is good that they are on amicable terms. Still, that does not mean it is right for Loki to take advantage of Clint’s confused state.”

“Yeah, but, um... call me sexist, but...” Jane groped for words. “ _Loki_ is the one who’s pregnant, right?”

“Yes.”

“So... it’s not like... you know... Clint is being... _coerced_... too much. I mean, he must at least be... enjoying it... a _little_ bit... you know?”

Thor turned to stare out the window at the blackness of the night. He vaguely caught his own reflection, with Jane’s behind it, but all he could see was how Clint had smirked at Loki and led him out of the room, one arm possessively around Loki’s waist. Deluded or not, in love or not, Thor was certain that Clint would enjoy coupling with Loki as much as he had ever enjoyed coupling with anybody. Loki was a skillful lover, his beautiful body matched by his sultry voice and skillful tongue. Thor had enjoyed every stolen moment with his brother despite the great guilt weighing on his conscience for desiring him in such a manner; he was sure Clint was enjoying it as well – and not just “a little bit” as Jane had said.

“Um... Thor? Earth to Thor?”

“What?” he responded, caught by surprise.

“I can tell it’s bothering you,” Jane began, “and I’m sorry I brought it up. Maybe Clint has already worked through his PTSD – sorry, that’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the aftereffects of trauma – and maybe he really _is_ in love with Loki. Who can say for sure? Maybe they _did_ share something more than... mindless, weird, baby-making sex. Maybe they did have some sort of connection or bond.”

“I suppose it is... possible,” Thor grudgingly admitted. He was not sure if the concept helped or not; he was not prepared to delve into it right now.

“But... so...” Jane hesitated, then took a deep breath. “If you’re in no hurry to go back... would you like to stay here tonight?”

“Thank you, yes. The couch will be sufficient,” Thor said with a glance at the living room.

Jane made an awkward laugh. “Thor, you just asked me to go to _Asgard_ with you, and... call me crazy, but I’m seriously considering it.” She looked up into his eyes before telling him, “I wasn’t offering you the _couch_.”

Thor opened his mouth to reply, then realized there was nothing to say. He had been with enough women to know when to stop talking, so he bent down to answer her lips with a kiss.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve had grown quite familiar with the new D-Ration bars since waking in the current time. Often there were days when he did not feel like eating anything, stuck in an ennui that was as cold and gripping as the polar ice, so he had come to rely on the Soldier Fuel bars to keep his body sustained. He picked up an assortment of them, selecting the ones he thought tasted best, and hung the bag on the doorknob of Loki and Clint’s room. Forgetting that the door and walls were made of soundproof material, he knocked and walked away; which was just as well since the couple inside were rather preoccupied.

He returned to his room and tried to sleep, even though he knew it would be elusive tonight. He tried reading a book in an effort to keep the images of Clint and Loki – naked and sweating and obviously enjoying themselves – from replaying in his mind, but with little success. Of course Steve knew the _mechanics_ of sex well enough, being as red-blooded as any other male of the species, but he had never experienced it with a partner, so seeing the actual _act_ itself had been a shock. That it had involved two males only compounded the shock.

The biggest shock, however, was how his body had responded. At first he had stared at the writhing forms on the screen with horrified fascination; but later, when the two men’s movements grew more frenzied, Steve had felt his own manhood swelling with unmistakable interest. He tried to rationalize it to himself by insisting he was only interested in Clint’s side of the pleasure – what did it feel like to thrust into another body like that? But then he wondered how it felt to be on Loki’s side, on the receiving end of those powerful thrusts. Was it truly as pleasurable as Loki’s reactions seemed to indicate? And how did that pleasure compare to Clint’s?

He tried to avoid rehashing those thoughts again, but they kept dogging him, nipping at the corners of his attention along with the images of the two men locked in each other’s embrace. Steve knew that if he gave in to those thoughts, he would be forced to masturbate to those images. Tossing his book on the bedside table, Steve stood up and grabbed his training gear. He would go to the gym and work off some of his restless energy – that had always worked before, even if the results were not quite as satisfactory. 


	28. Bruce&Steve: The Experiment

All of the lights in the gym were turned off when Steve entered, so he turned on just the lights he needed, helped himself to a few sandbags, and hooked up the first one. He was well into his routine of quick jabs and powerful hits when a shadow in the far corner of the room caught his eye. Although it hadn’t moved, he suddenly realized that the shadow was in the shape of a man sitting cross-legged on a mat. He paused and squinted, confirming that the shadow not only _looked_ like a man but _was_ a man.

“Um... Hello?”

When the man turned toward Steve, he recognized Bruce.

“Hello,” Bruce responded, sounding neither upset nor inviting.

“Dr. Banner! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there...”

“That’s all right. That was... sort of the point.”

Steve had taken a few steps closer to him but stopped short. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Sorry for all the noise I was making.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s actually... rather soothing. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Uh... Okay...” Steve glanced around the room as though looking for other men to be hiding in the darkness. “Um... May I ask what you’re doing?”

“Meditating. It helps to decompress at the end of the day... relieve some pressure, try to regain my balance. Really, you’re not bothering me at all, so don’t worry.”

“Okay... Thanks.”

Steve returned to punching the sandbag, although his thoughts were on Bruce and the effort the man must constantly exert to maintain his self-control. Steve wondered how meditation worked; it sounded mystical and foreign to him, but if it helped Bruce “regain his balance,” it must be effective. He was glad the mild-mannered scientist had found some tools to help keep “the other guy” in check. Not only did Steve not want to see people injured by The Hulk, he also did not want to see Bruce struggling with the guilt that ensued.

After a few more passes of quick, feather-light jabs, Steve worked up a sheen of sweat on his skin. When some of it flew off his bare arms in a flurry of movement, he wondered what his pheromones were saying now. Frustrated? Unsettled? Lonely? But he realized that if he was feeling all of those things, having been ripped out of his time and brought into the future, Bruce must feel them far more, being cut off from society by the very nature of what he had become. Frigga’s visual representation of their pheromones came back to his mind – Bruce’s cloud had been so dense as to almost obscure him. It wasn’t just about sex, Steve thought, but about all aspects of human interaction; Bruce would be regarded with fear and suspicion everywhere he went unless he could keep his identity secret. Which also meant that he would probably never find a woman to share his life with. After all, who would be brave enough to risk encountering the Mr. Hyde to Bruce’s Dr. Jekyll? And Bruce would never deceive someone he was that close to about his alter ego.

Steve hit the sandbag hard, then grabbed it as it swung back to him with force. A crazy thought had occurred to him and he wasn’t sure how it would be received. In fact, Tony Stark had first suggested it, which in itself nearly made him reject the idea, but he was also aware of his own limits of endurance and, by extrapolation, thought he understood where Bruce might be on the spectrum. He rested his forehead on the sandbag for a moment, debating with himself as to the wisdom of voicing the concept, but in the end his decision was based on a simple question: _“What have I got to lose?”_

He walked slowly over to the dark corner, giving Bruce the chance to stop his approach if he wanted to. The scientist only opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“May I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Steve sat down on the bare floor in front of Bruce, cross-legged as well. “I have a... proposal.”

“Oh?”

“I was just thinking... we’re both rather... at odds, with society in general... isolated in a sense.” Steve chose his words carefully, not wanting to sound condescending. “I know if it’s not easy for me, it can’t be any easier for you. So I was wondering if you’d be interested in a... an experiment.”

“W-What kind of experiment?” Bruce asked, one eyebrow rising in a guarded look.

“When Queen Frigga showed us our pheromones, she also mentioned some... other things, but they were true – at least for me. Then Stark had the idea that... we might be able to help each other... since we’re both in the same boat.”

Bruce’s mouth fell open. “Are you saying... what I _think_ you’re saying?”

Steve felt his face turn red and mentally kicked himself for even opening his mouth, but there was no turning back now.

“I believe you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about... especially after... what we saw today...” Steve cleared his throat before adding, “An experiment, of sorts, for... our mutual benefit.”

“Wow...” Bruce murmured, looking shocked even in the dim light. “You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Doctor. But if you’re not interested, I understand,” Steve said, moving to leave the other man alone to his peace and quiet. “I realize it’s not what you’re looking for—”

“No, wait!” Bruce called, making Steve stop in the middle of standing up. “That’s... That’s very generous of you, Captain. Because I know damn well we aren’t in the same boat – you’re not at all the social pariah I am.” When Steve sat back down and attempted to contradict him, Bruce prevented it with a wave of his hand. “No, no, it’s true; there’s no use denying it. You could go out there and... sweep any woman off her feet. Any girl would be lucky to have a man like you... whereas I can barely trust myself to be around other people, let alone get close to anyone.”

Knowing it was useless to candy-coat Bruce’s situation, Steve only said, “It must be incredibly lonely for you. I can’t even imagine how hard it’s been.”

“Thank you,” Bruce replied with a slow nod, acknowledging his years of pain and heartache in that simple gesture. “It’s nice of you to even try. But I’m still not sure... you really meant what you said. Are you sure... this is something you want to do? Because you don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me. I would rather not if it’s only a... pity fuck.”

Steve started, stunned by the modern term but understanding its ramifications immediately. “That’s not what I intended at all, Doctor. You know I have nothing but respect for you – for your scientific research as well as your fortitude in the face of so much adversity. A lesser man would have been crushed by the weight of what you have to bear. And as far as meaning what I said, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t. I’ve been... well, after seeing Clint and Loki... I’m a little curious about... how it all _works_. So I thought, you being a scientist, if we tried it as a sort of experiment – no emotional strings attached, you know; if it works, great, but if it doesn’t, no hard feelings – we could maybe blow off some steam without the risk of anybody getting hurt.”

Steve felt like he was babbling and turning redder the longer he spoke, but Bruce, observing him, seemed to grow calmer and more satisfied.

“All right, then,” he said, sounding like a professor now, “how do you propose we set up the experiment? What are the parameters, and what are we seeking to learn?”

“Well, ah,” Steve paused, taken aback for a moment. “What I’d like to learn is... is it really as... _enjoyable_... as Loki and Clint made it look?”

“Okay, we have an example and we want to prove or disprove its accuracy and repeatability. What else?”

“I... I really don’t know much about it... except what I saw today,” Steve admitted. “I guess I’m just curious... about the whole process.”

“Well then, gaining experiential knowledge is the best way to learn about it,” Bruce told him encouragingly. “What about the parameters? Are you comfortable with the whole world finding out about what we’re doing, or only your closest friends, or do you want to keep it a secret from everybody?”

“I think, until we figure out how... _successful_ our experiment will be, we should keep it to ourselves.”

“Excellent! Now we have our framework. And as far as method... are you looking to prove just what we saw Clint and Loki doing today – namely, anal sexual intercourse – or other methods of homosexual intimacy?”

“There... are _other_ ways?” Steve asked, feeling terribly ignorant.

“Of course. Sex isn’t always about penile penetration,” Bruce informed him. “Kissing, for example, is an important part of intimacy in _any_ relationship. Speaking of which, are you comfortable with kissing?”

“I... I’m not sure...”

“Okay, that will be one of the items to be tested,” Bruce said, ticking it off on his finger as though forming a mental checklist. “I’m assuming you would like to test both aspects of anal penetration?”

“Yes,” Steve answered immediately, glad to have a definite answer for at least something.

“Okay then, we’ll try everything at least once, including positions. This might take some time...”

Steve caught on that Bruce’s raised eyebrow indicated a question. “If there’s more than one way... I suppose it will. I’m stationed here for at least the next few months.”

“Good – then I’ll request to be assigned to one of the research projects here. Tony is already working with them on several, so it shouldn’t seem odd for me to ask to assist him. So... that just leaves the equipment.” Bruce studied Steve with a calculating look. “You seem to be the picture of health, and I’m assuming you’ve been put through more than the usual gamut of physical evaluations?”

“Poked and prodded and x-rayed like a guinea pig,” Steve agreed.

“Did they find any STDs in your system? Sexually Transmitted Diseases?”

“Uh... no.” Steve looked down at his hands and feet, flushed so hot he thought his ears must be steaming. “They couldn’t have, since... I... I know this sounds ridiculous, but I... I... haven’t... you know... _been_ with anybody.”

Bruce stared at him for what seemed like an hour before saying, “You mean... you’ve never...? Not even with women?”

Steve only shook his head. He had already noticed that the cultural attitude toward sex had changed vastly over the seven decades he had missed, and he felt even more ignorant than before.

“Wow... okay. So this will be your first.” Bruce flashed him a lopsided grin. “I guess I’d better make it good. No pressure, right?” His chuckle made Steve feel more at ease. “Well, you don’t have to take my word for it, but I’m clean too, according to the physical S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me right after New York. In fact I believe both of our immune systems have been bolstered to withstand most viruses and infections – which means we won’t have to bother with condoms. So all we need is some lubricant, available at the store here. Are you ready to do this? Tonight?”

“Yes,” Steve responded without hesitation.

“All right. So I guess the last question is: your place or mine?”

“Um... it doesn’t matter to me...”

Bruce considered it. “I think, since this is your first time, it should be in your room – where you would feel more relaxed and comfortable.” He uncrossed his legs and stood up, mirrored by Steve. “Why don’t you go on ahead while I stop by the store.”

“Uh... Here’s some cash—” Steve began, but he was cut off by Bruce.

“No, no – lube isn’t that expensive, and even if it was, this is my treat.” Bruce smiled and patted Steve on the back, making his wife-beater stick to his sweaty skin. “Just go on home and get freshened up.”

“I can do that,” Steve replied with a shy smile of his own. 


	29. Bruce&Steve: Touching

Since all of the doors in the facility automatically locked, Steve wedged his book in the door to the hallway so Bruce could get in if he arrived while Steve was still in the shower. He did a quick check of his room – it was as clean and spartan as any Army barracks, or rather cleaner. He did not plan on staying long at any one place because S.H.I.E.L.D. could move him at a moment’s notice, and he hardly had any material possessions to speak of. He straightened up the bedding so it wouldn’t look like he had tossed and turned before giving up on sleep, then stepped into the bathroom for his much-needed shower, spending extra time washing his nether regions. There was a tight knot in the pit of his stomach and his cock was already beginning to harden.

After stepping out and drying off, Steve left the towel wrapped around his waist while he brushed his teeth, remembering what Bruce had said about kissing. When he rinsed and looked up, Bruce’s reflection was in the mirror, leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom and smiling.

“I let myself in,” Bruce said, holding up the book. “And I got all the supplies we need.” This time he held up a large bottle of lubricant. “Are you ready to do this?”

“I... think so, yes,” Steve replied. His whole body was abuzz with excitement, making him tremble.

“Well, come on, then, Captain,” Bruce invited, backing away to let Steve through to the bedroom. “Why don’t we start with something simple... Just lie back on the bed – you can keep your towel on for now – and make yourself comfortable.”

Steve did as instructed, feeling more awkward than he had in a long while, and watched with unfeigned interest as Bruce took off his shirt and undershirt. The man had a lush covering of hair on his chest and abdomen which Steve could not help but envy since he had always been as smooth as a peeled egg. Bruce set his shirts aside on a chair, then slipped out of his shoes before crawling onto the bed to join Steve. They turned to face each other, their gazes shy but curious.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked.

“Nervous,” Steve answered honestly. “But a good kind of nervous, I think.”

“Me too,” Bruce confessed, making Steve feel infinitely better. “Let’s just start with touching, shall we?”

The scientist’s gentle hands reached out to Steve’s wrists, then traveled up his arms, lingering on his biceps before continuing to his shoulders, transferring warmth and a sense of closeness all along the way. Hesitantly, Steve placed his own palms on Bruce’s chest, exploring the hard expanse covered in soft fur. The ridges of his stomach were just as toned as Steve’s own, he found, and when he rubbed up the sides of the other man’s ribcage, he heard Bruce sigh and relax.

Bruce trailed his hands all over Steve’s body as well, admiring the perfection which he had striven so long to recreate. Steve was no longer an abstract ideal, or even a model soldier, but a living, breathing, _feeling_ human being who had reached out to a fellow man in his loneliness. With a surge of gratitude, Bruce shifted to get closer to this amazing man and slid a hand around to his back, holding him in a loose embrace. He noticed Steve’s cheeks had turned pink as their eyes met again; Bruce felt a little flushed as well.

“Would you like to try some kissing?” Bruce asked, surprised to find himself short of breath. “I know I sure would.”

“Yes,” Steve answered, leaning in closer as his heart thudded in his chest. When their lips met, he puckered like he thought he was supposed to, wondering at the slightly scratchy sensation of Bruce’s stubble, and backed away almost immediately. Bruce chuckled, though his voice was not unkind.

“I’m not your grandmother, you know,” he teased. “Loosen up a little and open your mouth. Let me show you how the French do kissing.”

“Uh... okay,” Steve said, not sure what to expect. When Bruce’s tongue licked his lips, he was startled; when it entered his mouth and engaged his own tongue, Steve felt his cock grow hard in response. It was an altogether novel experience but one he liked at once. He tried to mimic what Bruce was doing, feeling and tasting the other man, and was actually disappointed when his tongue retreated.

“No, don’t stop – now it’s your turn,” Bruce whispered. Realizing what he meant, Steve reconnected their mouths and slipped his tongue into Bruce’s. He was wondering if Bruce was getting hard, too, when he felt Bruce’s hand making its way under the towel and sliding up his thigh. He swallowed out of reflex when that warmth enveloped his cock, gasping for air as their lips parted.

Bruce reached down to massage Steve’s balls, his fingertips gently trying to learn what made the other man feel good. At this point, anything he did would have been good by Steve; having another person stimulate his privates in such a caring manner was truly mind-blowing for him. When Bruce brought his hand back up Steve’s shaft and his thumb touched the underside of the exposed head, though, he knew he had found a good spot – Steve tensed and moaned, the sexy sound making Bruce’s own cock fill to maximum capacity. They both needed release, and desperately; Bruce now had an idea how to make it happen.

“Lie back and spread your legs,” he told Steve. “Bend your knees if that’s more comfortable.”

When Steve had complied, Bruce removed the rest of his clothes and positioned himself between those long thighs, opening up the towel and kneeling at the soldier’s exposed crotch with his own legs underneath Steve’s double arches. Leaning forward, he brought their cocks into contact; aligning them without using his hands, Bruce rested his weight on his forearms, then made a little thrust with his hips to rub his cock against Steve’s, eliciting a cry from him.

“Oh! Wow...” Steve panted.

“Is that a good ‘Wow’ or a... not-so-sure ‘Wow’?”

“Good ‘Wow.’ Definitely.”

“Good. Can you give me a hand here?” Bruce asked, indicating their two cocks with a nod. Steve hurried to follow his directions. “Just wrap them around them... not too tight... yeah, that’s good.” With a grin, Bruce began thrusting, stroking his cock along the underside of Steve’s in a slow, tantalizing pace. Steve groaned as the friction caused him to start leaking precome, then realized that Bruce was leaking too – his cock was dripping beads of it as it rubbed up and down his own, making them glide more smoothly.

“Um... should I,” Steve began, blushing red-hot as he realized what he was about to ask.

“What? You can do whatever you want,” Bruce answered. “Just do what feels good. I’ll let you know if it doesn’t.”

Emboldened, Steve gathered up the drops of his own precome with a thumb and transferred it to the sliding surfaces of their cocks.

“Ahh...” Bruce breathed in approval. “Yes, very good. You’re a quick study.”

A warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of sex permeated Steve’s body, and he let out a long sigh of relief as he gave himself up to the wonderful sensation of having his cock rubbed by Bruce’s, of having the other man hovering over him, moving in the tender rhythm of love. When Bruce bent down to kiss him, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. Steve was glad to learn that they _could_ kiss in this position, which made their physical need seem like so much more – like they needed each other in deeper, more metaphysical ways.

Still, they were both men who had not had their sexual needs met in a long time – in Steve’s case, perhaps ever – so it did not take long for them to start grinding their cocks together in shorter, more urgent thrusts. While their tongues tangled between their mouths, Steve struggled to keep their cocks in contact without hampering their movements. He sensed Bruce’s desperation when the other man sucked hard at his tongue before drawing back, his hips pounding mercilessly against Steve’s thighs.

“I... I can’t... hold back,” Bruce panted. “I’m... coming... coming...!”

“Oh!” Steve gasped as he felt Bruce’s come splattering his skin, some of it reaching his chest and even his chin. He could sense how the orgasm tore through the other man – a deep, satisfying eruption of pent-up need and frustration. But as excited and as stimulated as he was, Steve was not ready to follow suit. He squirmed, wanting release desperately but unable to reach it, while Bruce thrust a few more times with his softening cock.

“Sorry,” Bruce apologized when he’d caught his breath. “But that was... _amazing_.”

Steve released his hold on both of their man-handles, choosing instead to grip the bedcovers. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with having Bruce watch him jack off. However, he need not have worried – Bruce shuffled down the bed until he was crouched between Steve’s legs and placed Steve’s cockhead in his mouth. While Steve stared in open-mouthed wonder, Bruce’s tongue began doing things to his cock that Steve had not imagined were possible even in his wildest wet dreams. The way the muscle lapped up his shaft, moistening it as well as stimulating it; the way it tried to make its way into the narrow slit, unsuccessfully but still to great effect; the way it flicked over the most sensitive spot on the underside of the head – all made him admire the other man so much more and brought his release that much closer.

When Bruce took his cock into his mouth again and began sucking and swallowing, Steve felt rumbling tremors in the core of his body; when Bruce moved his head up and down on his cock, letting the head push against the ridges on the roof of his mouth, Steve’s body erupted at last, shaking and trembling in the aftermath of the earth-shattering quake. His come spurted out like V-2 rockets being fired in quick succession, and Bruce gathered it all in his talented mouth, swallowing it bit by bit until it had all been consumed. He sucked a few final times to make sure he had drained Steve completely, then licked the head in lieu of a parting kiss and crawled up to lie alongside his new lover.

“Oh... wow...” was all Steve could manage.

“Mm-hmm,” Bruce concurred. 


	30. Thor&Loki: The Beginning

Thor stroked Jane’s hair in indolent satisfaction. Their lovemaking had been slow and hesitant at first since he had not been sure how frail a mortal woman might be, but he soon learned that Jane was as lusty and as hardy as any Asgardian wench he had known. He was glad that she no longer shared her quarters with Darcy and Erik – there would have been no disguising the noises they had made in their passion.

She was sleeping now, nestled against his shoulder where he held her, but sleep was far from Thor. Not because he was displeased with how their first coupling had gone, but rather because it had been more fulfilling and gratifying than he had expected. It felt like coming home after a long and wearisome battle – there was a rightness about it, a sense of connection and kinship... something he had not felt with any other woman.

But it was not the first time he had sensed it, and that was what troubled Thor and robbed him of his rest now. He had experienced such closeness and intimacy with only one other person: his supposed brother, Loki.

Thor reached back into his memory to the first time he had touched Loki with desire rather than in jest, sport, or anger. It was not hard to remember – the events of that momentous day were clear in his mind even though he had attempted to bury them, or at least ignore them, after being chastised by his father.

_Loki was sitting at his desk, writing out the answers to the questions their instructor had given him. Thor was sprawled on the recessed seating around the brazier, tossing one of the pillows in the air and catching it. He also had questions to answer, but he had given up after only doing a few. He wanted to go to the training grounds but Frigga had forbidden it for the past several days since he had not completed his questions for weeks. She hoped that confining him to the palace would inspire him to apply himself to his studies; thus far, it had not proven successful._

_“I’m bored,” Thor said for the eleventh time._

_“Why don’t you just finish your work, and then you will be free to go play with your friends,” Loki pointed out without stopping his writing._

_“If you would help me with my work, I would be done already,” Thor huffed._

_“I helped you yesterday.”_

_“Yes, but half of the answers were wrong!”_

_Loki shrugged. “I’m younger than you. Why should you expect me to know all the answers to your questions?”_

_“Because you’ve read twice as many books as I have!”_

_Thor glared at his brother, but Loki’s expression remained calm and unperturbed._

_“Perhaps if you stopped moping about and actually_ read _your assigned books, you wouldn’t need to ask me to help you.”_

_It was the same old argument they had had many times before. Loki would grudgingly agree to help Thor on occasion if Thor promised him something in exchange that Loki considered worthwhile, but if Thor grew too demanding or insufferable while he was doing the work for him, Loki would deliberately write the wrong answers to embarrass Thor in front of the instructor. Still, Thor hated his studies with such a passion that he continued to resort to bribing his brother._

_“Mother has forbidden me from setting foot outside of the palace,” Thor mused aloud, “but she never said I couldn’t explore_ inside _the palace...”_

_Loki’s pen halted for the first time. “I do believe my cleverness is beginning to wear off on you,” he remarked._

_“Let us go look through the old section,” Thor said, eagerly jumping to his feet. “There are still many rooms stocked with unused things from Grandfather’s day – perhaps we can find some old armor and weapons!”_

_Loki resisted as long as it took him to finish his assignment, but despite his many protests and dire warnings about the consequences, he seemed just as eager to look through the dusty rooms in search of boyish treasures. For Thor, it was necessary to persuade his brother to join him, for only Loki knew how to cast spells that would make them, if not entirely invisible to Heimdall, at least shadowed enough that the all-seeing watchman would not immediately alert their parents._

_And so they made their way down to the unused section of the palace, each carrying a torch. They found a room full of cabinets with antique royal dishes, which fascinated Loki more than Thor. They also came across a room with tapestries and flags, worn and faded but still showing the splendor of the past kings in their fine embroidery. When they rounded a corner of the corridor, however, they both froze, having heard sounds coming from a room ahead._

_“I thought nobody came down here anymore,” Loki whispered accusingly._

_“As did I!” Thor whispered back._

_Holding their breaths, they tiptoed to the source of the noises, a door Loki found was locked and sealed by magic._

_“It sounds like someone is in pain,” Thor said after they had listened to the muffled sounds for a minute. “Perhaps he is being tortured. We must find help!”_

_“Wait.” Loki moved to the wall next to the door and spread his hands over it. The solid stone began to slowly grow translucent, then transparent. “We can see in without them seeing out,” he told his brother._

_Even before his spell had finished, the boys realized that what they had stumbled upon was a tryst, not a scene of violence. But Thor was shocked to see that both of the lovers were men – soldiers he recognized as Einherjar. One man was naked from the waist down, half-lying and half-sitting on the edge of an old table; the other was fully clothed except for his cock, which he was thrusting into his lover as he stood between his outspread legs. Both men were grunting and crying out in pleasure with almost every thrust._

_“How... What...” Thor began but could not finish. His own cock had grown painfully hard at the sight._

_“What?” Loki asked. “You’ve never seen people having sex before?”_

_Startled by his brother’s cool demeanor, Thor turned to look at him. “You mean you have?”_

_“A few times. By accident, of course,” Loki answered, indicating his stone-changing spell. Thor was not sure how “by accident” he could believe it to be, but there were more pressing matters on his mind._

_“But... they are both_ men _,” he pointed out._

_Loki shot him a look that spelled contempt at his ignorance. “Of course. If you can penetrate a woman in her rectum, why couldn’t you do the same with a man?”_

_“You can?” Thor asked, his jaw dropping._

_“Well, obviously,” Loki retorted, gesturing to the couple before their eyes. “You have to use oil, but it must feel just as good as the child-making way, maybe even better, since some men prefer men over women.”_

_“How do you know that?” Thor demanded, forgetting to keep his voice down._

_“Hush!” Loki hissed at him while watching the two men. When they showed no signs of having heard Thor’s outburst, he whispered, “It’s common knowledge! Some men marry other men, just as some women marry other women. There are several Lancers who have rooms apart from the central barracks so their lovers can live with them – a few of the Charioteers too.” Seeing Thor’s incredulous expression, Loki explained, “I once saw two soldiers holding hands, strolling on the rear ramparts, and followed them to that section. Father must have made provision for them, since they are given quarters large enough for families, just like the Royal Guards who marry palace servants. Some of them even have children, although I would guess they are adopted.”_

_Thor stared at his brother, mouth agape, for a long time. Loki returned to watching the lovers before he did, but soon even Thor could not ignore the guttural sounds emanating from the room. His cock, which had become somewhat flaccid during his brother’s exposition, now raged rampant again at the sight of the two men enjoying their carnal pleasure. His hand slipped down to touch it through his trousers, stroking it in time to the lovers’ movements until his leaking fluid stained the fabric. When the man thrusting reached his climax, announcing it in harsh cries and uncontrollable strokes, Thor gasped and felt his own seed release as well. Blushing furiously, he glanced at Loki to see if his brother had noticed – only to find that Loki had done the same and was now using a spell to erase the wetness on his trousers._

_“Do mine too,” Thor demanded. Loki only smirked as he complied, then continued watching the two men inside. The one who had been penetrated had not yet reached his release, so his lover knelt on the floor before him to suckle his cock. A few moments later, he began crying out in ecstasy. Thor observed this as well, dumbfounded._

_“We should leave before they do,” Loki warned when the second man had finished, then passed his hand over the wall to undo his spell. The two boys scurried down the corridors, nearly taking the wrong turn once but making it back to Loki’s room without mishap. By the time they had closed the door, however, Thor’s cock had already begun to grow hard again; he could not get the images of the mating men out of his mind._

_“So... that happens often?” he asked his surprisingly more knowledgeable younger brother._

_“Of course. Sex happens all the time. Those soldiers were off-duty, at least – sometimes I’ve found them having sex even while on-duty.”_

_Thor frowned. “They should not be having pleasure when they ought to be serving the King.”_

_“True,” Loki agreed, “but I shan’t be reporting them to Father anytime soon – it would require answering some rather uncomfortable questions of our own, don’t you think? Besides, you know as well as I do how strong the urge to mate can be; and from what I’ve seen, at least, the pleasure seems to merit the risk of discovery.”_

_“It did seem pleasurable,” Thor admitted. “Very... pleasurable...” He turned a considering eye on his brother. “Loki,” he began, “would you like to try that for yourself?”_

_“What, with you?” Loki retorted in a mocking tone. He turned to face Thor and paled when he realized his older brother was serious. “You... mean that?”_

_Thor deliberately shifted the bulge in the front of his trousers. “I need release. I suspect you do as well.”_

_Loki swallowed hard, for his bulge had grown bigger even as Thor spoke. He glanced around the room nervously. “Let me cast a better concealing spell...”_


	31. Thor&Loki: Pseudocest

Thor remembered how they had argued about who would go first, neither of them knowing that the receiving partner could experience pleasure also; Loki had only agreed to let Thor take the first turn after Thor had sworn to give him his dagger – a relic from their great-grandfather’s days – if he did not immediately let Loki have his turn afterwards. Thus mollified, Loki had stripped out of his clothes, sat on the edge of his bed, conjured some oil, and spread his legs. Thor was upon his brother at once, penetrating him with no more preparation than the oil Loki had placed himself within his passage, causing the smaller boy to cry out in pain.

_“Stop! Pull out! You’re hurting me, you big brute!” Loki spit out savagely, tears welling in his eyes._

_“I... cannot... You feel so... good!” Thor gasped, already thrusting. “So tight... so... wonderful!”_

_With what sounded like a half-sob-half-snarl, Loki slid his fingers down below his own cock and balls to conjure more oil to his abused hole. The constant motion of Thor’s cock spread it quickly enough, and after a few gasps and another spell – this one to loosen his muscles – Loki was able to relax and lie back while his brother fucked him like a bull bilgesnipe in heat. It was just as well that Thor’s manhood was not a great endowment or he might have injured his brother on his first move._

_Even with Loki’s passage opened to easily accept his intrusion, however, Thor trembled from the pleasurable sensations traveling along his cock. His movements grew frenzied before long, and as Loki looked up at him with mingled disdain and curiosity, Thor pressed down further on Loki’s exposed ass, hooking his brother’s slender legs over his arms to better pound into him. Standing as he was on the floor, he had good leverage and footing to do so, and as the sensation of sliding inside Loki’s tight passage stimulated his cock more and more, Thor felt the dam of seed pooling at the base of his manhood growing as well._

_“Loki! Oh, Norns... so good... so... unghhh...!”_

_Thor growled and groaned as his seed shot forth like liquid lightning, striking many times until its energy was spent. The hot fluid was now coating Loki’s passage, making squelching noises with every thrust, for even though Thor could sense his come had been fully released, he could not stop thrusting into that wonderful, all-encompassing warmth._

_“Aren’t you done yet?” Loki complained, flailing his legs to get Thor’s attention._

_“I... I am... but I... do not want to stop,” Thor panted, letting Loki’s legs slip off from his arms. He leaned forward, bracing himself on the bed with his hands on either side of his brother. “It feels so good... Your body... feels so good, Loki.”_

_“I’m sure it does,” was the biting reply. “But you promised me my turn. Or do you wish to forfeit the dagger?”_

_“You can have the dagger,” Thor promised, “just let me do this... a while longer.”_

_Loki looked at him in surprise, then pursed his lips in resignation as well as satisfaction, for he had coveted the dagger ever since it had been given to Thor. After a few more thrusts, Thor lowered himself onto Loki’s chest, wrapping his arms around his brother’s back, and kissed those prim lips. The pleasure of coming inside Loki’s body had been incredible; the joy of holding his slim, naked body and continuing to be joined with it was unparalleled. Rather than subsiding, Thor’s cock was beginning to grow hard again._

_“Another!” Thor declared. “I can do this... once more, Loki!” He laughed when Loki’s eyes grew wide. “I could do this... all day...”_

_“You can’t – we must go to dinner or Father will suspect something,” Loki protested, somewhat panicked._

_“We have time yet before then,” Thor said, still sliding his cock inside his brother. He rose up onto his elbows to gaze down into Loki’s face. “This is... amazing, Brother! I wish I had known... such pleasure was possible... much sooner than this.”_

_“And now that you know, I suppose you’re going to be insufferable,” Loki bitterly retorted._

_“You will have your turn later,” Thor assured him. “For now, though, I must find pleasure... in your lovely body... once more. Loki, I will have your ass... overflowing with my seed! My own hands shall... never satisfy me again. Your tight hole... is the only place... my cock will... release its seed... Brother!”_

_“You do realize this is incest,” Loki said in some desperation as Thor’s thrusts grew faster._

_“What? Why?”_

_“We’re_ brothers _. Having_ sex _. That makes it_ incest _.”_

_“Oh... I thought that was... only for women... since the child would be... born with deformities.”_

_“No, you idiot! This is... shameful... disgusting... a perversion of nature.”_

_Thor shook his head. “No, this is wonderful... delightful... the best thing I have... ever felt!”_

_Wanting to plunge even deeper into Loki, Thor forced his way further up onto the bed, pushing Loki’s body with only his cock, until his knees came to rest on the rumpled bedcovers. He crouched over Loki so he could kiss him again and slid his arms under Loki’s shoulders, placing both hands on them to hold his brother’s body still while he thrust his cock as hard as he could. The change in angle did enable him to dig deeper; it also wrought a sudden change in Loki’s demeanor._

_“_ AH! _” he cried when Thor’s cock pushed up and in. “What... What was..._ AH! _”_

_“What is it?” Thor asked, startled enough to slow his movements._

_“Don’t stop – do it again,” Loki demanded. “Push hard!”_

_When Thor complied, Loki arched his back until he nearly came off the bed._

_“Oh! Oh, that was... that was... incredible,” he panted._

_“It was good?” Thor asked, wanting to be sure._

_“Yes! Push there again..._ YES! _Oh, yes – right there!_ YES! _”_

_So encouraged, Thor thrust in the way that seemed to drive Loki over the Rainbow Bridge of desire. He continued to hold Loki and kiss his lips whenever he could spare a breath, while Loki, for his part, wrapped his long legs around Thor’s backside and pulled him in with every thrust, inviting him to delve ever deeper into his body. The sensual cries that spilled out of Loki’s mouth made Thor’s blood pump hotter. He could feel his brother’s slender fingers groping between their bodies, stroking madly at Loki’s long manhood, so it was no surprise when Loki came, spattering his hot seed on both of their naked chests. What surprised Thor was how good it felt to have Loki climax while his cock was still within him. He thrust with abandon then, seeking only his own pleasure, and soon found it. Collapsing upon his brother, Thor felt as though all pleasures he had previously experienced in his life were nothing compared to what he had just had with Loki._

_After a few minutes of simply existing – of breathing and enjoying the bliss of sexual satisfaction – Loki pushed at Thor in a vain effort to move him._

_“You’re heavy,” he complained, though there was not the usual sting in his words._

_“Mm... and you are too hasty,” Thor replied, running a hand through Loki’s hair. “This is a most glorious way to pass the time indeed!”_

_“We must get clean before dinner,” Loki protested, trying to pull out from under Thor._

_“Use your tricks,” Thor said, still unwilling to release his brother. “It will save us time... time we can lie here together, Brother.”_

_He heard Loki mutter a few words and felt the stickiness covering his skin disappear. Grinning, Thor pulled Loki even closer to himself and claimed his lips once more._

_“Thor! We must go..._ now! _” Loki managed to say between the greedy kisses. “Mother will worry.”_

 _Thor sighed. “All right. But only if you give me a_ proper _kiss, Loki. For even I know that you cannot have sex without kissing.”_

 _“What? There is no rule for that,” Loki contradicted. “You can very well have sex and_ never _kiss.”_

_“There isn’t? I shall have to rectify that when I am King,” Thor declared. “I think it is absolutely necessary for lovers to kiss, so give me a kiss, Loki – or you will make us both late for dinner.”_

_“We are not lovers, Thor. We are brothers. Who just happened to do something very... illicit.”_

_Thor gazed into Loki’s troubled green eyes, and although he felt some misgivings – as though he had been infected by his brother’s concerns – aloud he only said, “Well... I love you, Brother, and if you would love me too... we will be lovers. And the next time, I promise you, you may do as you please with me.”_

_Loki seemed stunned by Thor’s statement, returning his gaze with an unwontedly open expression. He parted his lips as though to say something, then pressed them to Thor’s mouth instead. Thor kissed him the best he knew how, running his hands along the smooth, pale skin of Loki’s back. When Loki broke the kiss, he was subdued, almost unsure of himself, and Thor wanted nothing more than to hold him close._

_“We should get dressed for dinner,” Thor finally admitted, sitting up and pulling his brother along after him. “We wouldn’t want to be late, and I am famished!”_

_“I’m not surprised... after all that exercise,” Loki remarked while retrieving his clothes. “You will have no excuse to not finish your questions tonight.”_

_Thor groaned at the thought of his neglected studies, but he was soon distracted by the sight of Loki pulling his undergarment up his long legs and over his rounded buttocks. Despite his promise to let Loki have a turn at being the thruster, Thor was already dreaming of the next time he would enter his brother’s luscious body._

Remembering that day, Thor was amazed at how little remorse he had actually felt. The guilt had come later, after being reminded by Loki time and again how shameful incest was. Of course, now they knew they were not related by blood; Thor wondered what would have happened if they had known all along. Would they have been allowed to pursue their lust for each other? He had thought, at the time, that he truly loved Loki; would Loki have returned that love as well? Would his exile from Asgard, meeting Jane, fighting the Chitauri on Midgard... would all that never have occurred?

Then another thought struck Thor like a thunderbolt, electrifying him where he lay. If Loki had not used his magic to clean himself of Thor’s seed, he might have become pregnant with Thor’s child. Thor himself might have been the father of Loki’s baby, not Clint Barton. 


	32. Domestic Dreams

When Clint had asked if he had warned Odin of Thanos’ plans to attack Asgard and steal the weapons from the vault, Loki had answered by explaining that he knew nothing about Thanos that might help to resist him. However, when Clint insisted that “forewarned was forearmed,” Loki compromised by promising to tell Queen Frigga. He did not want to waste any more time talking about Thanos, or anything else for that matter – his time on Midgard was precious, and he wanted to spend as much of it as possible joined to Clint’s body.

Clint seemed satisfied by his promise, but instead of deepening the kiss Loki had initiated, he suddenly got out of bed and went to the door.

“Clint?” Loki called, shocked and concerned.

“Just checking to see if the Captain stopped by yet,” Clint reassured him. Opening the door, he retrieved the grocery bag that had been hanging on the doorknob. “Yup. I figured.”

Loki sat up in bed and watched curiously as Clint returned to him, looking through the selection of flavors.

“Here, try this one,” Clint said, handing him a package. Familiar with Midgardian food wrappings from his last stint, Loki tore the end open and bit the chocolate-colored confection. “What do you think?” the archer asked.

“It’s sweet,” Loki said, “but I prefer the chocolate you procured for me in Geneva.”

“Well yeah, that was the good stuff,” Clint admitted. “I don’t think I can find anything half as good around here. Let me make you some coffee, at least; there should be a coffeepot in here somewhere...”

Loki continued chewing small bites, having realized that he was hungry after all. And watching Clint rummage through the cupboards of the kitchenette, searching for the coffeepot – doing it for _him_ – was gratifying. A minute later Clint pulled out a water heating pot and, with a grin of triumph, a box of decaffeinated teabags. Loki smiled back as his lover set about brewing it for him. It felt wonderfully domestic, even idyllic, to have Clint fussing over him and worrying about the baby’s nutrition. Almost as though they were a real family.

Loki could not help thinking of his cell on Asgard as he looked around the room, which was slightly larger and more comfortably furnished, even if those furnishings were square and utilitarian. The kitchenette was small but functional, and the bathroom behind it was also small but adequate. Most importantly, the walls were solid, affording privacy (or at least so Loki thought). The wearisome thing about his cell was that it was a fishbowl in effect; all of his “friends,” as he called the prisoners in the neighboring cells, as well as the guards, could look in and watch him at any moment of the day or night. Even masturbating had to be done by stealth under the bedcovers if he did not want an audience.

The part he hated most was showering. As fastidious as Loki was, he had opted to clean himself by magic many times because the corner of his cell that converted into a shower was directly across the hallway from a Nidavellian Dwarf who had been imprisoned for raping and murdering countless young Dwarves. The first time Loki had showered, he had turned to see the Dwarf leering at him, pulling on his thick, grotesque cock in obvious pleasure. Feeling nauseated, Loki had managed to put up a curtain of steam to obscure himself from the lecherous observer, but since then he had tried to shower when the Dwarf was asleep. At least when using the privy, he was allowed to use a curtain.

When Clint brought him a steaming mug of tea to wash down the sticky-sweet bar, then settled into bed beside him with an arm around Loki’s waist, the trickster god thought how infinitely better this was than his cell. Seeing his wistful smile, Clint drew even closer to kiss his cheek.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he remarked.

Loki took another sip of tea before replying. “I was just thinking... how nice it would be... if I could stay here forever.” His lips quirked in an attempt to smile that failed. “Even if I never stepped foot outside of this room, if I could be with you... I would be happy.”

Clint gazed at him for a moment before leaning his forehead against his lover’s. “It grates on you... being locked up, doesn’t it?”

Loki snorted in lieu of a laugh. “Actually, no – I have everything I need, Mother brings me plenty of books to read, and I prefer my own company to that of idiotic Æsir warriors. But my cell... the walls are transparent, so anybody can look in. I feel like some rare monster put on exhibit for all to see... much like the beasts in your Midgardian zoos.” Loki waved a hand at their surroundings. “This... could be made very comfortable with a few improvements. But best of all, it affords us privacy – we could make love all night if we wished to.”

Loki directed a coy smirk at Clint, which the other man correctly interpreted to be an invitation. While Loki set his half-empty mug of tea on the bedside table, Clint crawled down under the covers to start licking and sucking Loki’s lengthening cock.

 

* * *

 

 

Nick Fury, observing and listening from the control room, felt no remorse for spying on them – only mild relief that the manacles on Loki’s wrists appeared to be functioning as intended. He glanced at a smaller monitor to the side which showed an angled view of a bed in another bedroom: Steve Rogers’ bedroom, where he and Dr. Bruce Banner were engaged in their own passionate lovemaking. Fury huffed. He hoped those pheromones weren’t catching, but he was also tempted to have the facility’s water supply tested. At least Tony Stark had finally fallen asleep in the lab, with his feet propped up on a desk, after tinkering around for hours.

Little did Fury know that Tony had hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s surveillance system again and was simply watching the live feed from Loki’s room. Tony found the two lovers’ heart-to-heart talks boring, but he did take note of Loki’s comments regarding Thanos. He wondered if he could create a weapon using flerovium as Frigga had suggested; he wondered more whether such a weapon would be of any use against a being so powerful that even Loki feared him, but he was determined to at least try.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor stepped out into the small back yard of Jane’s apartment, having left her sleeping peacefully in bed. He needed to clear his thoughts, to sort through his complicated feelings for Loki. He had long denied having any untoward desires for his brother, telling himself his affection was purely fraternal, but after sensing such strong jealousy within himself over how Clint Barton was relating to Loki, Thor had to admit that he was, at least in part, still in love with the mischievous demigod.

The realization that he might have fathered a child with Loki – that in fact it had been a very close thing – gave him pause. If Loki had not been so thorough in cleaning up his seed after their coupling, or if they had not been found out and had continued to mate, eventually Loki would have become pregnant with Thor’s child. Would Odin have revealed the truth of Loki’s parentage then? Would the All-Father have allowed his two boys to continue what had started as an incestuous relationship – perhaps even allowed them to marry? Thor sighed. It was all useless conjecture now, but he could not stop his racing mind or even change its direction.

He imagined what it might have been like to have Loki as his lover – openly, without shame, for all of Asgard to see. Loki’s clever tongue had grown sharper towards Thor after Odin had forbidden them from coupling with each other; Thor had always assumed it was because he had shamed his brother in the eyes of their father and Loki was angry with him for having continually pressured him to give in to his lust. If Odin had not berated them like he had, shouting how disgusted and disappointed he was in them, would Loki not have grown so bitter and distant? If he had known that what they had done was _not_ shameful, and if it had _not_ lessened their father’s opinion of them, would he have embraced Thor’s love, perhaps, and consented to be his consort? Might he have grown up to be a happier man?

 _“We were so very young,”_ Thor thought. How would Loki have reacted to the news that he was pregnant? He had been shocked enough to hear it when he had; how much worse would it have been back then, when he was still a young boy – when he also would have been told, for the first time, that he was Jötun? The fact that he was adopted would have been welcome news to Thor, for it meant they had not committed true incest, but for Loki it would have been devastating.

“I would have helped him through it,” Thor mumbled to himself. “I would have let him know... he was not alone...”

The thunder god was startled when Jane plopped down beside him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

“No,” Thor replied.

“What’s the matter?”

“I was thinking... of all the different paths our lives might have taken.” He looked up at the unfamiliar Midgardian stars. “Only a few steps to one side or the other, a few choices made differently, and the outcome might have been... worlds apart.”

 _“If I had not angered Loki with my recklessness,”_ he added to himself, _“he would not have disrupted my coronation... I would not have attacked Jötunheim... I would not have been exiled... I would not have met Jane.”_

“Well, I’m sorry I hit you with my truck... twice,” Jane told him, “but I’m still glad we met.”

Thor smiled at her and curled an arm around her shoulders. He had to agree, but he also had to acknowledge that he wished he could have known Loki as he might have been in a happier life. 


	33. Loki Confesses

Loki took a drink of his cooled tea as he watched Clint sleep. His Human lover had finally succumbed to exhaustion after another round of lovemaking and was sprawled spread-eagle on the bed, snoring. Loki did not mind; there was enough room for him to curl up against the other man’s chest if he wanted to, and Clint’s snores were not loud compared to Volstagg’s or even Thor’s. But Loki simply could not bear to sleep when his time outside of the cell was so limited – even carding his fingers through Clint’s short hair was a privilege the demigod did not take for granted.

Loki still felt as though he were in a dream. To have Clint offering his support and companionship felt unnatural somehow, especially when Loki remembered how the archer had turned his deadly aim upon him. Even when Loki had been forced to surrender in Stark’s ruined penthouse suite, Clint had kept an arrow trained upon his forehead, ready to release it if the trickster god made a threatening move. Loki had known he had lost his general and lover the moment their connection had been broken, but he had felt the pang of loss more acutely when he had seen Clint’s keen eyes glaring at him, all remembrance of their time together erased. It had driven home the realization that he had lost – lost not only the battle but also everything he had held dear.

And yet, against all odds and even defying reason, Clint had embraced him upon hearing the news of their child. Although Loki was certain the man had felt attracted to him right from the start, that alone could not explain Clint’s sudden acceptance of him as a lover again. The child was not motivation enough, either, so it had to be something else.

As he sat there, observing Clint’s peaceful face, Loki remembered what the chief healer had mentioned after examining his alien body, something he had overheard while his mind was still numb with shock: his pheromone emissions were extremely high, much higher than anything she had ever encountered before.

Such a high level of pheromones, Loki knew, would incite an Æsir male to mate senselessly if exposed to it for a long time; a mortal man would be driven mad with desire... just as Clint had been since their reunion... just as he had been during their original time together. With cold dread pooling in the pit of his stomach, Loki realized that all of their passionate lovemaking might have been triggered by something as simple as chemistry – and nothing more.

Bowing his head in anguish, Loki struggled to breathe. The healer had not been able to tell Frigga whether Loki’s body was constantly emitting pheromones at that level or only when his body was fertile. Either way, he realized, it could have been the reason Thor had lusted after him so irresistibly in their youth. It would explain why, after they had been discovered and chastened by their father, Thor had grown disinterested in Loki just as suddenly – they had ceased to spend time together, so the effect of the pheromones had worn off. What Thor had declared as his love for Loki had been nothing more than chemically induced lust.

Loki’s eyes flooded with tears and he cursed the hormones now raging through his body, amplifying his emotions a hundredfold. His quick mind raced ahead to when he would be locked in the cell again, quarantined from the rest of the world. He knew the same change in attitude would happen with Clint. Separated from Loki’s overwhelming pheromones, the man would cease to feel any desire for him and begin to look for another lover. After all, Loki would not even be able to touch him, let alone offer his body to satisfy Clint’s natural needs – why would Clint continue to remain faithful to him then?

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Loki tried to stifle the sobs that wracked his body. Clint was leaving his friends, his work, and his entire world behind to be close to Loki and the baby; when the madness brought on by Loki’s pheromones subsided and his supposed love for Loki cooled, he might regret having made that decision. Especially if he found out that he had made it while under the influence of such powerful chemical urges. And if he realized that Loki had known about it all along...

 _“He will hate me for certain,”_ Loki told himself. _“What little affection he might yet have for me will be obliterated by rage.”_

Loki understood well the kind of hatred that secrets could engender, having had his own sense of self shattered by Odin’s revelation. The knowledge that he was Jötun had been devastating enough; but to find that his adoptive parents had kept that knowledge from him had made him feel betrayed and disparaged – as though he were a child or, worse yet, a _creature_ incapable of comprehending it. He could not trust anyone, not even the woman he had regarded as his mother, anymore. It had been a dark and lonely path since then and at times Loki wondered if, when he had cast himself into the Void, a piece of the Void might have lodged itself permanently into his soul. Clint Barton had been the first person in whom Loki had willingly confided some of his thoughts, even if not all of them.

 _“When he returns to his senses, he will no longer love me... but I cannot bear to have him hate me,”_ Loki realized. _“At least if I tell him now, he may retain some kindness for me... he may still wish to be a father to the child and, possibly, help me for the child’s sake. Perhaps he would be willing to stay in Asgard until the child is born if I told him it would ease my mind... that it would be helpful for the_ baby’s _health. Just a few months until the child is born... although it may seem like an eternity for a mortal...”_

Loki drew in a shuddering breath. He did not know how he could survive the ordeal alone, despite having steeled himself to do so already; now that he had envisioned having Clint beside him as a partner in the process, it was untenable to imagine going through it without him. It was as though he had been given a glimmer of hope only to have it ripped from his hands before he could fully appreciate it. But he had a limited window of time in which to inform Clint – once they left Midgard, telling him would not spare Loki from his wrath.

 _“It would have to be enough in advance that he could... choose to remain on Midgard instead.”_ The thought squeezed at Loki’s heart, forcing more tears from his eyes. _“But I can wait yet... wait until Thor is on his way back here... or until he is close...”_ He would wait as long as he could, enjoying the precious hours, minutes, and seconds of Clint’s undivided and unreserved attentions. It was the best he could do. It would have to do.

Loki sniffed hard, wishing he could use his powers to summon Frigga’s handkerchief from his robe pocket. He nearly jumped out of his skin, however – sloshing what remained of his tea – when he felt a hand touch his waist.

“Easy,” Clint said, his voice thick with sleep. When Loki turned his startled face to him, Clint’s eyes widened and he sat up quickly, reaching with both hands for Loki. “What’s the matter, Baby? What’s wrong?”

“Wh-What? N-Nothing,” Loki stammered, then realized how pitiful a lie it was since his cheeks were still wet with tears. No doubt his eyes were red as well.

“Don’t give me that,” Clint chided, but his tone was concerned as he wrapped his arms around Loki’s naked body. “Tell me what’s bothering you. Come here, Baby – tell me everything.”

Loki could almost see the last few blissful moments with his lover being cut short, but there was no getting around it now. He simply did not have the wherewithal to deceive Clint; and, to his own surprise, he found that did not want to, either.

“I... I must tell you something,” he began, already aching for his loss. The only thing that kept him going was the specter of Clint angry with him – pointing his crossbow at him. “All of this... it’s not _real_.”

“ _What?_ ” Clint responded, squinting at him in confusion.

“What you think you feel toward me,” Loki clarified, “is not true. It’s... caused by my pheromones. I’m emitting an extraordinarily high amount, which makes you want to mate with me, but... once I’m returned to my cell, you will no longer be influenced by it. You will realize then that... all of this... was just your body’s response to... natural chemical triggers.”

Clint blinked a couple of times, processing this news. “Okay... So what?”

Loki swallowed and focused on the mug in his hands. “So... I thought you should know about it... before you left your world. Once you return to your senses, you may regret having moved to Asgard. I would rather you make an informed decision... understand what is happening here.”

“I understand that your pheromones are what turned me into a horny sex addict all of a sudden,” Clint replied, “which is actually a relief – I was wondering if there were something wrong with me! It sure explains the marathon sex sessions. Damn, I’ve been feeling like a teenager again!” Clint lifted Loki’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “That’s not a _bad_ thing, you know. In fact I’ve been enjoying every minute of it!”

Loki’s lips twitched, attempting to smirk, but he needed to impress upon his lover the gravity of the situation. “While I don’t doubt that, I must remind you... once in Asgard, I will not be allowed any conjugal visits. Your sex drive should abate as well, but... you should reconsider your decision to move there in light of that.”

“Why?” Clint countered. “I’m going there to be with you and the kid – I already knew we probably wouldn’t get to sleep together. I’m glad that I won’t be tempted to hump the railings on your cell or anything, but why _wouldn’t_ I want to go?”

Loki gaped at him for a moment, wishing it were that simple.

“Because you don’t really love me, Clint – you only _think_ you do. And while I... appreciate your offer to be by my side until the child is born, you may come to find it... tedious and... a poor use of your time.”

Comprehension dawned in the Human’s eyes, making Loki feel some relief at having gotten through to him. But he was shocked by Clint’s next statement.

“Oh, Loki,” Clint sighed, holding him even closer. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I love you?”


	34. Clint&Loki: Pillow Talk

Clint understood well enough what pheromones were, and he was honestly glad to know they were the reason why he had been so horny around Loki; however, he also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved Loki. Just the sight of his red-rimmed, teary eyes made Clint feel actual physical pain, and to see Loki’s delicate nose turned pink from crying made his insides churn in a roiling knot.

“Come here, Baby,” he soothed, lifting Loki’s long legs to one side so he was sitting between Clint’s thighs, cradled by his arms. “Oh, Baby... Oh, Loki,” Clint whispered, kissing away the wet traces on his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I love you. And it’s not just the pheromones talking either.”

“That’s _exactly_ what the pheromones would make you think,” Loki protested, although he did not resist what Clint was doing. In fact he set his almost empty mug on the bedside table so he could nestle against Clint’s body more comfortably.

“No, I mean it. Just think about it,” Clint began. “When I got snapped out of your spell, my first response was to try to kill you, right? So obviously I wasn’t suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or anything like that.” In answer to Loki’s perplexed expression, he explained, “It’s a thing where people – or at least Humans – start identifying with their kidnapper, even thinking they’re in love with them. Don’t ask me how it works, but anyway, I know I didn’t have it. I hated your guts back then.”

“Of course,” Loki faintly replied, “you were not feeling the effects of the pheromones at that time.”

Clint kissed him and forced him to meet his gaze before continuing.

“The important thing is, _after_ I started digging around for my memories, reliving what we’d done together, I realized that I’d fallen for you. Hard. Because in spite of everything you’d done to me – as well as to my world – I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And when I got that one memory unblocked and remembered what you’d gone through... _why_ you were doing what you were doing, I knew my instincts hadn’t been wrong. You’d gotten under my skin, Loki, and that’s a hard thing to do... for anyone. You can’t just wave a magic wand at someone and make them fall in love; God knows I would be the last guy to fall for a trick like that. No, I’d spent enough time with you to get a feel for who you really are... and _that_ was the Loki I’d fallen for.”

There was a glimmer, the barest hint of hope in Loki’s sea-green eyes. Clint tried to encourage it with another kiss, stroking Loki’s cool skin with wide open palms as though to warm him. When their mouths parted, Loki was looking at him hungrily, his lips open as though poised to say something but he didn’t know what.

“When I realized how I felt about you,” Clint told him, “I wished I could have done it all over again with my head screwed on straight. Of course I wouldn’t have helped you take over my world, but... maybe I could have helped you make a plan against the Chitauri or something. I sure as hell would have been a better partner for you if I’d been aware of what I was doing, not just a robot taking orders. And I know what you’re going to say: that I only _thought_ I loved you because you forced me to, but that doesn’t explain how much I missed you afterwards, does it? Because _yeah_ , I missed you! After I got over the hurt and anger and confusion, I fucking _missed_ you. And... I worried about you. I thought how lonely you must be, locked up all alone in prison, and wished I could at least visit you. But you were a whole world away.”

Clint grasped Loki’s shoulders and gave him a little shake.

“Do you get it? I was missing you when you were _locked up on Asgard_. When your damn pheromones couldn’t possibly have affected me because you weren’t even on the same fucking _planet_. I wanted to see you, to talk with you, to make sure you were all right, even after everything you’d done, because I... I couldn’t _help_ it. I couldn’t stop caring about what happened to you because I _love_ you. And that’s not something you can _make_ me feel – I don’t care how many pheromones you throw at me!”

Loki hardly realized that he was weeping, his tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes as he stared at Clint, stunned. The Human’s logical reasoning had startled Loki, forcing him to accept that perhaps Clint was right in his assertions – that he really _had_ come to love Loki without the influence of his pheromones.

“Damn it all, Loki, I missed doing stuff with you, and I don’t mean just sex,” Clint said. “Remember when we went clothes shopping in Milan? At the first place you pretended to be some rich entrepreneur and I was your bodyguard, but then at the second place you told me to act like a rich dude who was paying for everything and you were my boy toy. That was _fun_. _You_ were fun. And although world domination isn’t something I’d care to put on my resumé, we made a damn good team.” Pulling Loki in close, Clint pressed their foreheads together before stating, “It’s like we were _meant_ for each other. I felt lost – literally _lost_ – once I’d sorted through my scrambled head, because I thought I’d never see you again. When they told me a group was coming from Asgard and wanted me to be here, I was hoping to get some news about you, even if it was just a little scrap of information; I didn’t expect you to come with them in a million years. But now you’re here, and you’re carrying my baby, and I’ve got a chance to be with you again. Maybe it’s not an ideal situation, but I still have another chance... so hell yeah, I’m gonna take it! Because I know this is worth the effort – it’s worth fighting for. You and me, Loki... we’ve been given another chance, and this time I want to do it right.”

Loki was trembling as he sobbed, his sight blurred and watery, but he clung to Clint as though he were the only thing tethering his soul from falling into the Void again. And Clint held him tightly, holding him chains and all against his chest as he murmured into Loki’s disheveled hair.

“The fact that you’re pregnant with my kid... is like proof that we’re meant to be together... like this was _meant_ to happen. I mean, how many guys do you know have gotten pregnant? Maybe it’s a common thing for your people, but it sure as hell isn’t for us. So this baby is nothing short of a miracle... He’s a miracle baby that’s giving us a second chance.”

Loki wept on Clint’s shoulder then without holding back or feeling self-conscious. He needed Clint so much... needed his reassuring voice, his comforting embrace, his warm and accepting presence. Clint’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, massaging his back, rubbing his protruding stomach, and wiping away his tears, and Loki was grateful for every little bit of it. When the tempest of his emotions had calmed, Clint’s shoulder was glistening wet but the man gazed steadily at Loki as though nothing else in the world mattered to him.

“You done, Baby?” Clint asked, his tone still gentle. “’Cuz I don’t want to hear any more of this crazy talk about pheromones being the only reason I love you, all right?”

Loki nodded and gulped, but something was nagging at the back of his mind.

“What?” Clint demanded, seeing the question in his lover’s eyes.

“I... I was just... wondering,” Loki said, then paused to sniff, “why you keep calling me... as though you’re... talking to the child.”

Clint had to think for a moment to understand what Loki was saying. “Oh! You mean ‘Baby’? That’s just a... a term of endearment. I guess you don’t say that in Asgard, huh?”

Loki shook his head slightly. Clint chuckled at himself before kissing Loki on the tip of his nose.

“Well, it’s just an expression. It felt like it fit... because you are, you know – my ‘Baby.’ The kid is ‘the Kid,’” he explained, touching the baby bump, “and he’s _ours_ , but you’re my ‘Baby’... because you’re all _mine_.”

“All yours...” Loki echoed, his face full of wonder.

“Yeah. All mine,” Clint reaffirmed, squeezing him close for a moment. “And don’t you forget it!”

When Loki’s thin shoulders began shaking with sobs once more, Clint petted him again, stroking his hair and placing tender kisses wherever he could. Loki leaned into him, absorbing his affection as dry land would the rain. Clint reached over to grab the tissue box on the bedside table and offered it to Loki.

“Damn hormones,” Loki mumbled as he took a handful to wipe his face. Clint laughed, knowing that his lover had learned to swear from him.

“Well, my hormones – and probably your pheromones – are telling me to fuck you,” he informed Loki, “but that’s not what I’m gonna do.” Clint cupped Loki’s face in both hands and studied it like a priceless work of art. “I’m gonna make love to you, Baby, for as long as I can.”

As Clint claimed his lips in a searing kiss, Loki’s heart was filled with nothing but joy. 


	35. Loki's Vision

True to his word, Clint made love to Loki by attempting to kiss every square inch of his body, from the tips of his toes to the tip of his cock. Of course by then Loki was desperate for release, so Clint spent a few minutes stroking and sucking him off while stimulating his prostate from inside with two fingers. Listening to Loki keen and cry out as he came in his mouth made Clint hard for some action too, so he replaced his fingers with his cock as soon as he could roll a new condom on it. Loki sighed with satisfaction when Clint’s thickness was fully seated inside him.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Clint commented with some amusement.

“Yes. Is that strange?” Loki asked, watching the Human’s every move.

“No, not strange, just... I dunno...” Clint thought for a moment as he thrust slowly into his lover. “When you had me under your control, you could’ve just as easily made me your bitch, you know? But instead you let me fuck you like this... over and over... like you really enjoyed having my cock shoved up your ass.”

“Because I do,” Loki replied, pulling Clint deeper inside his body with his feet, which he had crossed behind his lover’s buttocks. “I enjoy how it feels to be filled with a huge cock... to feel you moving within me, seeking pleasure. And when you reach the height of it, and I can see your face filled with delight and feel your seed spewing forth from your cock... it is very satisfying. Even if it doesn’t coincide with my own pleasure.”

Clint glanced down at Loki’s cock, which Loki was languidly fondling himself but was showing no signs of reviving any time soon. If it had been, he might have paused to fondle it for his lover, but since it was not, he returned his focus to his own cock, which was building up a delicious friction with Loki’s passage.

“Did you ever, you know... do it the other way?” Clint asked.

“Yes. A few times,” Loki answered without elaborating. “But I much prefer it this way.”

“That works great for me, then,” Clint said with a grin, “’cuz I really enjoy fucking you. You’re so damn tight and good...” He shoved his cock in deep a few times, breaking his rhythm, but it only served to make him hotter and closer to climax. “Aw, damn, Loki! I’m gonna come soon.”

“Of course... I want you to.” Loki threw the chain of his manacles behind Clint’s head to pull him closer. “I want you to feel pleasure in my body, my Hawk... You have given me so much of it. Let your sex explode inside me... let me feel your seed burst forth...”

Clint groaned as his thrusts became quick and urgent. He was in a tight crouch over Loki, resting his weight on his forearms while grasping Loki’s shoulders in both hands, pounding into his hole with not just his cock but his entire body. For a fleeting instant Clint wished he did not have any balls so he could plunge even deeper into Loki’s wonderful passage, but the next moment those balls were seized with his climax, shooting out come like a geyser while Clint’s back arched like a high-tension bow.

“ _Ahh!! Ahh!! **Ahh!! ARGHH!!!**_ ” Clint shouted as his hips fucked Loki on auto-pilot. His semen filled the tip of the condom and blew back into the shaft as well, making the latex sheath slide around with each subsiding stroke. He continued to thrust into Loki, however, as long as his cock was hard enough to be effective. Only when it became too limp and threatened to fold on itself rather than slip into the passage did he collapse and cease moving, his knees still bent so that the precious bump on Loki’s belly was not crushed.

“So good... hot damn! So fucking _amazing_ ,” Clint panted against Loki’s chest.

“Mmm... I must concur,” Loki sighed happily. He ran his chained hands up and down Clint’s sweaty back, reveling in the contact.

Clint kissed Loki’s nipple and playfully licked it. “I think it’s another proof that we’re meant to be together. I’ve never had better sex before in my life.”

“Neither have I,” Loki mumbled, almost to himself – it was a revelation that had only just occurred to him.

Clint finally pulled his cock out of Loki’s ass, ducked out from under Loki’s chains, and sat up on his haunches to remove the filled condom. He tied and pitched it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room, aware of Loki’s gaze upon him. Looking down at the god of mischief, who at the moment seemed as docile and content as a well-fed domestic cat, Clint could not remember a time when he had been happier or more sexually satisfied. The slight protrusion on Loki’s stomach reminded him that there was even more happiness to look forward to.

“How’s the kid?” he asked as he crawled down, bringing his face level with the bump. “What does he think of all this... exercise?”

“I... don’t know for sure,” Loki admitted, “but he moved a couple of times... I think he was simply turning over, though he probably wasn’t sleeping.”

Clint chuckled. “I wouldn’t think so, no.” He pressed his lips to the rounded dome on Loki’s otherwise flat belly and whispered, “Hey, Kid... how’re you doing in there? Were we keeping you up?”

Not expecting an answer, Clint had resumed kissing the bump when suddenly both he and Loki started.

“He moved!” Clint said with excitement. “I felt it!”

“Yes.” Loki grinned from ear to ear. “I think he might have heard you. Perhaps... he already recognizes your voice.”

Clint shook his head in awe, his face filled with wonder. “Damn!” was all he could say. Then he laughed and added, “I guess I should watch my language – wouldn’t do to have the kid swearing before he can even talk!”

Loki chuckled, his expression softened by the realization that Clint would be helping him raise the child, that the Human – despite finding out about the pheromones – was still willing to be a father to their son. It was more than Loki had ever dreamed for... all but once.

“When I first discovered that I was with child,” Loki said, feeling compelled to unburden his heart of one last secret, “I was horrified. I considered it the final blow in a long litany of curses wrought upon me by the Norns.”

Clint turned serious as he moved to lie beside Loki and wrap him in his arms. “Baby...” he began, but Loki cut his words short with a kiss.

“My mother convinced me that the child was a gift,” Loki told him after their lips had parted. “And in a way, I could see that it was. I thought it would be the only part of you that I would be able to keep near. I never dared to hope that you would be a father to it, but I thought... if only the child would take after you, it would at least give me a tangible token of... of the blissful time I had spent with you.”

“Oh, Baby,” Clint murmured again, stroking Loki’s hair back with one hand.

“That night... I had a dream,” Loki confessed. “I have never had the gift of foresight, so I tell you this not as a claim to have seen the future but merely as a... a vision of my fevered mind.”

“Go on,” Clint prodded when Loki paused.

“We were in a field,” he finally continued. “It must have been autumn, for the grasses were turning golden and there were apples on the trees. The nearest tree was a good hundred paces away and its fruit was small... but you pointed to one of them that hung clear of the leaves and told Heideral to shoot it. He was... oh, only waist high – a very young child. I thought it impossible for him to hit it at that distance.”

“Yeah? But did he do it?”

“On the third try, yes,” Loki said with a smile.

Clint beamed back at him. “That’s my boy! _Our_ boy,” he quickly amended.

“As he left to fetch his arrows, you took my hand,” Loki said, matching his words by taking one of Clint’s hands in his own. “And in my dream, I was... perfectly happy.”

Clint kissed the back of Loki’s hands and twisted their fingers together.

“So... in this dream,” he asked, “what did the kid look like?”

“Like you.” Loki’s smile was clear and unfeigned. “Very much like you. He had your nose and your brown hair, and his eyes were green. I think his eyes might have been more like mine, but there was no mistaking that he was your son.”

“Well... I guess that’s good. Although I wouldn’t mind if he looked more like you – tall, handsome, and beautiful,” Clint said, his adoration of Loki evident in the way he looked at him. “But between the two of us, we couldn’t go wrong, could we?” he joked.

Loki laughed and snuggled closer to Clint. “No. Any child of ours is sure to be beautiful and brilliant.”

“Damn straight,” Clint replied, hugging Loki tightly.

Still smiling, Loki fell asleep in his lover’s arms. 


	36. Bruce&Steve: One Way

Steve was in a half-dreamlike state when Bruce got up and went into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth to wipe his come off Steve’s chest.

“Oh... thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Steve was mesmerized with the way the laugh lines crinkled around Bruce’s eyes when he smiled. He hoped to make the reclusive scientist smile again, and often.

“So... what’s next?” he asked.

“What do you want it to be?” Bruce asked in return.

“Um... I’m up for anything,” Steve said, thinking anything with Bruce was sure to be wonderful. “What do _you_ want, Doctor?”

Bruce laughed as he stretched out on the bed and propped his head up on one elbow. “Please, ‘Captain’ – you can call me Bruce.”

“Okay. But only if you call me ‘Steve.’”

“Deal,” Bruce agreed. He rested one hand casually on Steve’s hip and ran it up and down the curve of his ass. “Well, if you’re sure you’re up for ‘anything’... I think we might be ready to take it to the next step.”

“What would that be?” Steve asked, feeling excited rather than anxious. Still, he was startled when Bruce’s hand slid back to cup one half of his buttocks.

“That would be... getting you ready... to do what Loki was doing,” Bruce said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Unless, of course, you would like to try Clint’s side first.”

“No, I... whatever you decide is fine. Really.”

“Okay.” Bruce rolled over to grab the large container of lubricant he had bought. “This might take some time.”

“I’m in no hurry, Doc–I mean, _Bruce_.”

They both chuckled at his slip-up, then Bruce squeezed a large amount of lube onto his fingers. “Try to relax,” he said as he leaned closer and placed those fingers in Steve’s crack.

Steve shivered at the coolness of the gel but was soon distracted when Bruce started kissing him again. He wasn’t sure how the other man managed to keep him engaged in the kiss while sliding his fingers around his backside, coating everything with lube, but he wasn’t about to complain. When he felt one finger prodding at his puckered entrance, though, he gasped and backed out of the kiss. The next instant the finger slipped inside; Steve was relieved to find that it didn’t hurt at all.

“You okay?” Bruce asked, his eyes searching Steve’s.

“Perfectly fine,” Steve told him with a smile. He initiated another kiss, wanting to taste Bruce’s tongue again. The digit worming around inside of him was distracting but not uncomfortable, and Steve felt fully relaxed in Bruce’s hands, knowing he could trust the gentle man with anything.

This time Bruce broke off the kiss, but only so he could put more lube on his fingers. “Ready to try two?” he asked, holding them up for Steve to assess.

“Why not?” Steve answered, emboldened by their success thus far.

“Turn over, then; I need to see what I’m doing. I don’t want to hurt you by mistake.”

Steve complied and felt the first finger slip in again without a problem. The second, however, was a stretch – it stung as it forced his entrance open.

“Just breathe,” Bruce coached him from behind. “Take deep breaths and let your body relax. There you go... nice and easy...” He removed the second finger for a moment to apply more lube, then after pushing it back in, he turned his hand so that his combined fingers were twisting around, stretching Steve’s entrance at every point on the compass. “Keep breathing... You’re doing great.”

Steve felt his body growing accustomed to the intrusion as he focused on breathing. The lube was allowing Bruce to move easily within him, and the stretch gradually became less painful until at last the sting disappeared. He took another deep breath before saying, “I think I’m ready for more.”

He heard Bruce squeeze another dollop of lube out before the final stretch came. It was not as uncomfortable as before, even though Bruce had inserted three fingers at once this time; after a minute or two of twisting on Bruce’s part and deliberate relaxing on Steve’s part, the inserted digits were sliding around as though they belonged there. Then Bruce seemed to be searching for something, groping along the front side of Steve’s passage in a grid pattern. When he hit the target, Steve knew it immediately.

“Oh!” he cried, clutching at the bedspread. “Wow!”

“Good wow?” Bruce asked, pausing the movement of his fingers.

“Yeah... oh, yeah!” Steve told him with enthusiasm. He cried out in a wordless caterwaul when Bruce rubbed that spot again, then gasped, “Oh, _wow!_ ”

“Good,” Bruce said, a smile apparent in his warm tone. “I think you’re ready for the real deal, but it’ll probably be easier for me to hit that spot if we do it doggie style.”

“Doggie...?” Steve asked, temporarily at a loss.

“Um... you know, how dogs do it – on all fours,” Bruce explained.

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Steve said, blushing as he assumed that position. He could feel Bruce moving around on the bed behind him and heard more lube being slathered – this time on Bruce’s cock. Steve swallowed, nervous and in some disbelief that he was actually about to be penetrated by another man; but when he considered who the other man was and how carefully he had handled him so far (even sticking his fingers in where Steve himself had never touched), he was able to expel the breath he had been holding and relax his muscles. He sensed Bruce positioning himself from the heat emanating from his body and the hint of contact at his rear entrance, then Bruce placed his hands on Steve’s hips and guided them down. Steve spread his knees and shifted to stabilize himself in the lower stance, realizing that since Bruce was shorter than he was, it would be easier for him to fit that way.

“Ready?” Bruce asked one final time, giving him the chance to back out of it.

“Ready,” Steve replied without hesitating. The next moment he felt a warm, slick object push against his opening, then it practically popped through the bottleneck and slid into him with little resistance. It did, however, slide right against his prostate, making him gasp in pleasure.

“Oh, wow...” Bruce’s voice floated to him from behind. The man sounded as though he were drunk or dreaming. “Oh, _wow_... This is _nice_... Yeah...” As he drawled his words, Bruce was pressing his cock further into Steve’s passage. When it was in all the way, his hairy balls scratching Steve’s ass, Bruce took a moment to run his hands along Steve’s waist and ribs. “How are you doing?” he asked. “Are you regretting this yet?”

“Not at all,” Steve answered, inhaling deeply and letting it out to make his muscles loosen. He felt his body adjusting to the presence of Bruce’s cock inside it, and he marveled at how he could now feel the other man’s pulse through their connection. He realized exactly how intimate the act of sex really was, now that he was experiencing it, but he also knew he would not regret this at all. “I’m fine, Bruce – don’t worry.”

“All right, then... I’m gonna start moving,” Bruce warned before gently making good on his promise. He aimed for Steve’s sweet spot and hit it on his first try... and the second, and the third. Steve moaned in pleasure, encouraging him to keep thrusting at that angle, and Bruce was more than happy to oblige. Soon Steve’s cock was dripping precome onto the bed and Bruce’s was slathering his own inside Steve’s already well-lubricated passage. Every thrust made wet, slurping noises that echoed in the room, driving both of their needs to a fever pitch, but Bruce was determined to hold out until Steve came since he had come before him the last time.

He did not have long to wait. Steve was crouched low over the bed, taking in huge draughts of air and pushing back to force Bruce’s cock deeper into his body with each stroke. His toes curled as the two men worked up to a frantic pace, the pleasure almost too intense to bear – and then Steve was bearing it no longer, his cock twitching and shooting out come in liberating release. He arched his back and wantonly pushed against Bruce’s hardness over and over, crying out unintelligible words as his climax swept all thought from his mind. The only thing that mattered, that existed for Steve in that moment, was Bruce’s cock filling him and making his own cock explode with fireworks of sensation that burst in his mind’s eye.

Feeling the spasms that shook Steve to the very core of his being through his cock, Bruce gritted his teeth and drew upon all the self-control he had trained himself in to maintain his excitement without letting it take over, but when he sensed that his lover’s wave of ecstasy had crested, Bruce allowed his body to do what it had been screaming at him to do. He plunged mindlessly into Steve’s hot passage, all gentleness cast aside in the tempest of his lust, and moved so quickly that his balls were out of contact with Steve’s skin for only fractions of a second at a time. After a blur of movement during which he held Steve’s exhausted hips in place for the sole purpose of fucking him, the usually mild-mannered scientist began to roar with pleasure. His come shot out with amazing force, filling Steve’s tunnel with liquid fire, and he reared up from his position over Steve’s back in a primal gesture of sexual dominance and conquest. Shoving his cock deep into his partner’s ass as he pulled it hard toward himself, Bruce felt a release like he had never felt before – a total relinquishing of control which he had only felt when “the other guy” had taken over.

For a minute Bruce’s mind went blank as he continued to hump Steve’s unresisting form, but then his awareness snapped back into focus. He checked himself, worried for a dreadful instant that he might have turned into The Hulk, but the normal flesh-tone of his skin reassured him that he had not. Breathing a sigh of relief, he thrust a few more times into his new lover, enjoying the simple pleasure of human contact. To have a man he respected, even admired, allow him to touch his body in such an intimate manner was an almost unimaginable privilege; to have given Steve pleasure, as was proven by the sticky mess of semen now covering the bedspread, was unbelievable.

When Bruce finally pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside him, Steve sank down onto his belly and mumbled, “Wow...” into his arms.

“I hope that’s a good ‘Wow,’” Bruce remarked.

“Oh, _yeah_... a _very_ good ‘Wow.’”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Bruce said. “This was my first time... with a man.”

Steve’s head popped up from where it had been resting. “Really? But... But how did you know... what to do?”

“Internet porn,” Bruce confided, blushing slightly. “Being alone all the time... can get a little lonely. And a few times when I was surfing free porn... I saw some for gay sex, and... well, I thought, ‘What the heck,’ you know? It was hot, and I learned a few things... which came in rather handy tonight...”

“No argument there,” Steve told him with a sated smile. 


	37. What Tony Saw

Tony got up and stretched after confirming that both Loki and Clint had fallen asleep. The wraparound glasses he wore looked like safety goggles – entirely appropriate for the laboratory – but were in fact adapted from the viewscreen technology he had used in the Ironman™ masks, fully capable of showing Ultra-High-Definition images in a curved 120-degree panorama. He had watched the couple’s lovemaking with voyeuristic interest, wishing only that he had popcorn and a soda to make the experience complete, and before that he had listened in surprise to Loki informing Clint about his pheromones.

That was a bit of information he had not expected the god of lies and mischief to volunteer to his lover. Although Tony did not have a vested interest in Clint’s future _per se_ , he was glad (if mildly stunned) to discover that Loki was capable of honesty, at least in this instance. Having seen Loki wracked with sobs before he apparently came to the decision to tell Clint, Tony realized what an effort it had cost him – how much Loki had dreaded losing Clint upon making this revelation. It was a relief to know that the demigod carrying Clint’s child was so enamored of the Human, as well as that Clint himself had worked through his seemingly contradictory emotions and was now confident about his feelings for Loki. It also made the billionaire-genius-philanthropist unwontedly sentimental and homesick for Pepper. On his way to the room prepared for him in the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, Tony told Jarvis to have a large bouquet of her favorite flowers delivered to her in the morning.

Just before he reached his room, he saw the door to Bruce’s assigned room and stopped on impulse. Since he had already hacked the facility’s mainframe, it would be a simple matter to open the door and perhaps poke the sleeping giant with a pointy object. Or, better yet, he could snuggle in next to him and see how he would react upon awaking in bed with another man. It was too good of a prank to pass up, so Tony accessed the code that would grant him entry and tiptoed into the room. His glasses now served as night-vision goggles, allowing him to see in monochromatic green light. He sneaked into the bedroom but was disappointed to find the bed empty and still made up, with no signs of the other scientist.

“Damn.” He looked around all corners of the room, even checking the ceiling to make sure Bruce was not hiding in some bizarre fashion. “Jarvis, where is Doctor Bruce Banner?”

“He is in the quarters assigned to Captain Steve Rogers. Would you like the live video feed from that room as well, Sir?”

“I sure as hell would!” Tony declared. When the image appeared within his goggles, he was so shocked that he had to sit down on the edge of Bruce’s unused bed. Bruce and Steve were lying together in a tangled embrace, Steve’s head resting on Bruce’s hairy chest and Bruce’s nose buried in Steve’s blond hair. They were under the covers but from their naked condition from the chest up, Tony was in no doubt as to their clothing – or rather, lack thereof – from the waist down. The stained and rumpled condition of the bedspread also left no ambiguity as to the activities which had preceded the two men’s current state.

“Jarvis, back up the footage to when they entered the room,” Tony said in trancelike fascination, lying back on the bed and scooting up to get comfortable. “This I gotta see...”

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, Bruce and Steve had very little time to engage in their “experimental” activities, but since they both needed to shower anyway, Bruce suggested that they wash off together and give each other a mutual handjob. It took only a second for Steve to figure out what the term meant, and he agreed to it enthusiastically. His enthusiasm did not abate at the successful conclusion of that experiment, either, so Bruce promised that they would revisit it when they had more time to explore all the various possibilities thereof.

Once showered and dressed, Bruce realized that there were other ramifications to their new experimental status that he needed to consider.

“We can’t leave here at the same time,” he told Steve. “If anyone sees us, the cat’s out of the bag.”

“Oh, right... But the same applies if anyone sees you coming out of my room,” Steve pointed out. “I’ll go out first and let you know if the coast is clear. If not, I’ll just leave... and you’ll have to take your chances a few minutes later. At least I’ll try to move whoever is out there along.”

Bruce nodded. “That’s the best we can do for now.”

Steve moved towards the doorway, then turned around suddenly and gathered Bruce up in his arms to give him a deep, lingering kiss.

“In case I forgot to answer your question... from earlier,” Steve said in a low tone, slightly breathless from plundering Bruce’s mouth, “I really, really like kissing.”

Bruce stared up at him in glazed disbelief but managed to reply, “I noticed.”

Steve nodded, his cheeks tinged pink, and turned back to the door. When he stepped out into the corridor, he looked both ways, then flashed a smile at Bruce as he said, “All clear.”

Bruce followed him into the corridor and told him, “Go on ahead. I need to change into another shirt at least – I can’t go to breakfast wearing the same clothes as yesterday. God only knows what Tony would say if he noticed... and I’m sure he _would_ notice.”

“I would say you were being a very _naughty boy_ , not telling me you were up to all sorts of hanky-panky – not even _inviting_ me to the party,” Tony’s voice came from around a corner, followed shortly by Tony himself. “In fact you actually _deflowered_ our good ol’ boy scout, didn’t you? Popped his cherry? Opened his can? Played ass pirate with the Captain?”

Both men had frozen upon being accosted by Tony, and his prattling did nothing to ease their discomfort.

“It’s none of your business, Stark,” Steve retorted, but he could not hide the flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Uh, w-wh-what are you... talking about?” Bruce began in a feeble attempt to deny his statements.

“Oh, come _on!_ ” Tony snapped. “If you’re gonna sleep with another man, at least be man enough to man up to it! And seriously, all I asked was to be there to _watch_... and maybe tape it from the best camera angles for posterity’s sake... but you didn’t even let me _in_ on this big event! With friends like you, who needs enemies?”

With a melodramatic toss of both hands into the air, Tony put on the air of being grievously aggrieved. Bruce gaped at him, unsure how to respond; Steve shot back first.

“How do you even know anything about it?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What have you done now, Stark?”

“What? Me? I just hacked into the system here so I could watch Hawkeye and Loki practice making alien-human hybrid babies,” Tony replied with aplomb. “Getting to watch the footage of you two doing the nasty was an unexpected bonus – although the picture would have been a thousand times better if _I’d_ done the recording.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Bruce said sharply. “There was footage – you actually saw _footage?_ ”

“They’re spying on _us_ too?” Steve asked, although it was a rhetorical question for all intents and purposes. “So there’s a camera... or cameras... in each of our rooms?”

“Yeah! You didn’t know?” Tony blandly asked. “No wonder you weren’t turning your best side to the camera! Now, if I were filming and directing it–”

“They were _spying_ on us? _All_ of us?” Bruce growled through gritted teeth. There was a dangerous undertone in his voice that made even Tony sober up right away.

“It’s standard operating procedure, you know,” he said placatingly. “You know how paranoid these pseudo-governmental military organizations are...”

“Bruce, it’s all right,” Steve interrupted, standing in front of his lover and forcing him to look directly into his eyes. “I don’t care if the whole world knows – what we have is special, the start of something really amazing, and I don’t care if Fury or anybody else watches us. Let them watch! Nobody can take this away from us.”

Bruce’s breathing grew somewhat more relaxed as Steve talked to him, and the tension in his jaw decreased as he gazed into those sky-blue eyes. Bruce forced himself to inhale deeply and let out a cleansing breath, imagining all the dark, swirling smog of anger leaving his lungs as he expelled the air.

The sound of feminine voices came around the corner moments before Frigga and Maria appeared in the corridor, but by then Bruce was back in full control of his faculties, the threat averted. However, Tony’s jaw dropped as the two women ingenuously wished them all a good morning.

“Agent Hill,” Tony said in a mock stage whisper, “is that the same outfit you had on _yesterday?_ ”

“This is my _uniform_ ,” Maria responded tartly, but a telltale blush turned her cheeks crimson and stunned the other two men as well. Tony recovered first.

“Jarvis, have a box of Pepper’s favorite chocolate delivered today too,” he said into his com-link. “I’ll be damned if I’m the only one not getting any action tonight!”

Frigga smiled with beneficence and swept past them all to press the doorbell of Loki’s room.

“I do hope he’s awake and ready by now,” she said conversationally while Steve and Bruce still looked askance at her and Maria. “I need to empty his stomach of the bile before he will be able to enjoy any breakfast.”

Clint opened the door and greeted her. “Good morning, Queen Frigga. Your son is still primping in the bathroom, but I promise he’s no worse for wear.”

Frigga beamed as she entered the room. “If anything, I expect him to be better than before, my dear Clint.”

He grinned in reply, and she flitted over to the bathroom to assist Loki in his primping. 


	38. Driving Into Town

Breakfast was buffet style, so Loki – who was somewhat familiar with Midgardian cuisine – explained the various dishes to Frigga while Clint loaded Loki’s plate, since Loki could not comfortably do so himself with the chains on his wrists. Fury sat at the head of the table and watched the group balefully with his exhausted eye, not having slept much due to watching all the activities of the night. Steve and Bruce were still outraged from learning that their privacy had been violated, however, and hardly spoke at all, so the conversation was carried by Tony and Loki for the most part, staying on innocuous subjects like food and differences in American and European habits, with Frigga and Maria joining in occasionally. Natasha ate in silence, avoiding Clint’s questioning glances again.

When they were close to finished with eating, Clint gave up on trying to catch his former partner’s eye.

“Director, have you heard anything from Thor?” he asked instead, resting a hand on Loki’s knee in mute reassurance.

“He’s on his way back; he should arrive in three hours, give or take.”

“Hm... I was hoping to make a quick trip into town to pick up a few things from my apartment. Assuming, of course,” Clint added, turning to Loki, “that I can take some of my stuff to Asgard?”

Loki opened his mouth to answer, then thought better of it and deferred to Frigga. “I believe so, as long as the Queen allows it.”

“Of course, my dears,” Frigga answered with a smile. “While I can guarantee that you will be provided with everything you need – clothes, housing, food – I’m sure there are some items of sentimental value that you would like to bring with you.”

Clint nodded. “I would hate to part with my custom-built bows... not that I don’t think you have good weaponry on Asgard, but like you say, some stuff has sentimental value. Plus my clothes... should be only a duffel bag or two. Director, my lease is until the end of the year and I’m all paid up, so you can use the place for a safehouse if you like. I’m obviously not taking the furniture, so someone might as well get some use out of the place.”

“All right. Do you want us to renew the lease in case you come back?” Fury asked pointedly.

“No need for that, Sir,” Clint told him. “If I do come back, it would be with my family, so I’d have to get a bigger place anyway.” He flashed a grin at Loki, who had almost dropped his fork and knife upon hearing this statement. The demigod stared at the archer, pressing his lips together to keep them from quivering, as inexpressible emotions flickered through his eyes. Clint rubbed his thigh, understanding how it affected Loki to realize he had a new family now.

“So Hawkeye, you’re really in it for the long haul, huh?” Tony put in with his usual disregard for tact.

“Yeah – I have to be, for the kid’s sake,” Clint replied seriously. “At least eighteen years, you know... unless he grows up quicker than we mere mortals do.”

“We have no way of knowing for certain how quickly the child will grow,” Frigga admitted, “but if it takes after Loki, it would be slower than Midgardian children. Since the Jötun, like the Æsir, live thousands of years by your reckoning, they develop at a much slower rate. I did find Loki’s growth to be comparable to Thor’s, though. We considered them both to be fully matured at around thirty-six Midgardian years, when they had reached their full height.”

“That bites,” Tony remarked. “At that rate, you’ll have a teenager on your hands for twenty years! Good luck with that, daddies.”

“At least that gives me a chance to get it right... if and when I make mistakes,” Clint responded. He exchanged a look with Loki. “This is all new territory for me, so I hope I get to take things slow and figure them out as I go.”

Loki did not speak, but he squeezed Clint’s hand where it rested on his thigh in tacit agreement.

 

* * *

 

 

Fury could not refuse to let Loki accompany Clint to his apartment since the manacles seemed to be working properly thus far, but he insisted on sending Steve and Tony along as security. Bruce calmly pointed out that he would be more of a risk than Loki in a crowded city and opted to work in the lab on some of Tony’s projects. Natasha had hoped that Frigga would stay behind as well, but when the Asgardian Queen indicated that she would go with her son as a further guarantee that he would cause no trouble, the female agent felt there was no decent excuse for her to not join the party. Maria arranged for three stretch SUVs to transport them, with the main group riding in the middle one, and Natasha quietly got into the lead vehicle. Clint noticed but did not say anything, realizing that his old friend would have to come to terms with these sudden changes in her own time.

Tony wanted to fly over the convoy to make adjustments to his new suit and Maria rode up front with the driver, so it was just Frigga and Steve in the spacious cabin with Clint and Loki. Ever the gentleman, Steve struck up a polite conversation with the Queen, asking what she thought about Earth as she saw it on this visit and what some of her impressions had been on her former visits.

Settled on the other bench seat with his arm comfortably wrapped around Loki’s shoulders, Clint asked him something he had been wondering about since the day before.

“Baby... tell me honestly, now: have you ever thought about escaping?”

Loki snorted in amusement. “Of course. Until I fell ill, it was the _only_ thing I thought about. But there are precious few places in all the Nine Realms where I would be beyond the long reach of the All-Father, and those few places are – as I regrettably know from experience – already occupied by some rather... _unsavory_ characters.”

Clint acknowledged this by pulling Loki even closer. “Well, that wouldn’t work, then... but if you were free to go anywhere, where would you go?”

“I don’t know,” Loki answered, his face pensive as though he had never even considered such a thing. He had certainly not been asked it since his capture. “Somewhere in Europe, perhaps... Milan was interesting, and the tailors there were at least competent. The food in Paris was good... Remember the little bistro where you took me on our first day there? The server’s attitude was atrocious, but I’ve not had better pastries before – even from the palace kitchens of Asgard. And that port town where we acquired the rare metals for Erik had a nice air about it...”

“It did, didn’t it,” Clint agreed, playing with the ends of Loki’s hair. “But those are all places here on Earth – wouldn’t you rather live on Asgard?”

Loki’s expression grew cold, although he managed to keep his voice neutral. “No, why would I? I’ve seen everything worth seeing there already.”

“But wouldn’t you miss your friends?”

Loki averted his eyes, staring out at the dusty desert landscape rushing past the windows. When he spoke, it was in a whisper audible only to Clint. “I don’t have any friends worth missing.”

Clint studied Loki’s profile for a few minutes without replying, just keeping his lover’s shoulders in a tight embrace. After a moment he could sense Frigga’s gaze upon them both, and he hoped she did not think they were having a spat. He leaned in to kiss Loki’s neck behind his ear, eliciting a gasp from him as well as a wan smile.

“You should not do such things when you cannot follow through on them,” Loki teasingly chided.

“Who says I can’t?” Clint retorted. “I _am_ taking you to my apartment, after all.”

Chuckling, Loki leaned against Clint’s shoulder, pressing his nose against the fabric of the agent’s uniform and inhaling deeply.

“I don’t think there are enough pheromones in the universe to make you take me in the presence of my mother.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Clint said with an answering chuckle. He wrapped both arms around Loki’s slender frame and frowned when he felt how prominent Loki’s ribs were. He silently vowed to make sure Loki ate more and grew healthier.

“My dearest Hawk,” Loki murmured against his neck, “if _you_ could go anywhere, where would it be?”

Clint thought about it for a moment. “I like it out here in the West... Colorado, Wyoming, Montana. It’s not too crowded and there’s a lot to see and do. I wish I had time to take you to Montana – it’s called Big Sky Country for a reason. You can see for miles and miles... the whole horizon, three hundred sixty degrees if you stand on a hill. And the air just feels _different_ somehow. Clearer. Purer. Then there are some amazing views of the Grand Tetons in Wyoming... and I think you’d enjoy hiking through the Garden of the Gods in Colorado.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Loki agreed wistfully, his fingers playing with the strap at Clint’s throat and gently scratching the skin beneath.

“It would be a great place to raise the kid,” Clint continued, seeing it all unfold in his mind’s eye. “Maybe a horse ranch with a few hundred acres, near enough to a town that we could run out and get stuff when we needed to but far enough away that we wouldn’t have to deal with nosy neighbors... You could homeschool the kid while I took care of the horses, and we’d ride out for picnic lunches whenever the weather was good enough... just you, me, and the kid. And I’d make sure to teach him how to shoot so if he wanted to, he could work for S.H.I.E.L.D. – or any other agency.”

“Mmm... And I could teach him magic away from prying eyes... assuming he has any aptitude,” Loki added. “Once he learns to control it, he could help defend your world from invaders like the Chitauri, I suppose...”

“He would be a valuable asset if he has _any_ magical powers,” Clint said, seriously considering the potential. “He would never have to worry about getting work... at least here on Earth.”

Loki sighed and snuggled even closer to his lover. “He would be so much happier here...”

“You really think so?”

“I know it for a fact. I... I struggled, being different from all the Æsir around me, especially since I did not know the reason why. At least our child will know the truth of his heritage... but it will still be difficult. The Æsir... do not have any love for Frost Giants. And as my child – the child of a traitor and disgraced prisoner – he will be regarded with suspicion... if not outright loathing.”

Clint absorbed this information, feeling a hard lump forming in the pit of his stomach. If he himself were asked to endure such hardship, he could bear it; but to think of his child having to grow up in the midst of such prejudice was unbearable.

Loki sensed the tension that had gripped Clint. He sat up to look into his lover’s face.

“When our child is ready,” he told Clint, “when his powers have been ascertained and he has been taught how to control them... I wish for you to bring him back here. Perhaps... Perhaps here on Earth, he will be able to find some form of happiness. Even if he is different from all the Humans, if he is more powerful than they, he would at least command some respect. But if his powers are not remarkably strong... there will be no place for him on Asgard.”

“What about you?” Clint asked, his expression sober. He already knew the answer.

“I will wish you both happiness from my cell,” Loki replied, sadness casting a shadow over his pale face. “But I will not shackle you to Asgard simply to have you near me. I could not force my son to endure a childhood like my own... not when there is a better place for him to be.”

Clint saw Loki’s eyes shining with moisture and pulled him roughly into an embrace. As he kissed the raven-black hair, he fought to keep the tears in his own eyes from spilling. 


	39. Clint's Apartment

They rode in heavy silence the rest of the way, Frigga and Steve having noticed the lovers’ somber mood. Clint helped Loki out of the SUV when they parked in front of his apartment building while Steve lent the Queen a hand. Maria ordered the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to fan out around the street, creating a perimeter, which gave Natasha an excuse to make herself scarce. Tony flew in and landed on the sidewalk with a flourish, showing off for Frigga’s benefit and to irritate Steve.

“It’s really not much of a place,” Clint warned Loki as he unlocked the front door, “just somewhere to hang out and unwind when I’m not working... which is almost never.”

Loki smiled and laced his hand around the arm Clint offered. “I’m sure it’s lovely. I only wish I could have come here when I visited before.”

“You didn’t?” Tony asked in surprise as they started climbing the stairs. “In all the time you were eluding Big Brother, you never came to your baby daddy’s place?”

“Of course not. It would’ve been the first place they’d look,” Clint answered. “They would’ve expected me to come by to pick up my spare gear.”

“Yeah but if _they_ knew that you knew they would be watching, it would’ve been the last place you’d come, so then it would’ve been the perfect hiding place!” Tony insisted.

“We did have agents watching the area,” Maria confessed. “We were hoping you would want your own weapons badly enough to risk it.”

Clint shook his head. “Nope. Loki just made sure I got new toys to my specifications. I think those might still be in evidence lockup at headquarters.”

Reaching his door, Clint pulled out his keys again to unlock it, then let Loki pass through first. “Like I said, it’s not much. At least I had a chance to clean it recently.”

Loki stepped into the living/dining room and stood in the center, just behind the worn leather sofa, as the others filed in. “It’s bigger than my cell... and the walls are solid.” He turned a wry grin toward Clint and Frigga. “I am rather enamored of solid walls, now that I live in a glass cage.”

“Damn, this _is_ clean. Do you have a service come in or something?” Tony asked as he walked over to Clint’s entertainment center and began reading the CD titles.

“Nah. Just had a few weeks of forced time off,” Clint said, pulling out a long case from under the sofa. When he unsnapped the lid, three bows with several dozen arrows appeared. He set them out on the floor and removed the sponge packing, then put only the gear back in again.

“Can we help with anything?” Steve offered.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it. Just make yourselves at home. There’s some lemonade in the fridge... or beer,” Clint said before disappearing into the bedroom.

Loki followed him slowly, taking in the environment that was the closest thing to his lover’s home. He watched as Clint pulled out a duffel bag and stuffed clothes into it from his drawers with military efficiency, then as he filled a kit bag with essential toiletries in the bathroom. When Clint started pulling out more hard cases from under the bed, Loki sat on its edge to watch. After a moment he lay down, resting his head on Clint’s pillow.

“Tired?” Clint asked, pausing his whirlwind of activity.

“No... Just imagining what it might have been like to... wake up here, with you, every morning.”

Clint left the assorted bows and arrows on the floor to lie on his side next to Loki, peering down at him from where he perched his head on one elbow.

“It would have been wonderful,” he said softly, aching to see the longing in Loki’s expression.

“Yes, it would have been,” Loki agreed, reaching up to touch Clint’s cheek. The chain dangling heavily from his wrist was a tangible reminder of his incarcerated status. Clint grabbed that hand and kissed it – on the palm and on each finger – then leaned down to kiss Loki on his lips. It was a tender kiss that meant much more than the rough, passionate bites they used to exchange during their lovemaking, and Loki could not get enough of it. He was still clutching Clint’s shoulder, begging for more, when Frigga approached the open door and halted just outside. The couple sensed her presence and moved apart, though loath to do so.

“They tell me your brother will be arriving in one hour,” she said with quiet sympathy, “and since it will take nearly as long to travel back to the facility...”

“Right. Of course. I won’t be long now,” Clint replied instead of Loki, standing up and gathering his gear. He carried them all into the living room and began packing them together into the one case.

Loki sat up to watch him. He had not bothered to correct Frigga that Thor was _not_ his brother because he simply did not have the energy to spare – he was too focused on engraving everything Clint said or did into his memory. But his active mind was also seeing double as it imagined what life might have been like if they had ever lived in this apartment together. He could easily envision Clint cleaning or adjusting his weapons while Loki busied himself with more domestic affairs, perhaps cooking a meal for them to share. There was no formal dining table in the apartment but they could eat sitting on the couch like they often had in hotel rooms, watching TV and laughing and talking, which had often led to making love. Loki’s vision blurred as, with a final snap of the fittings on the lid, Clint finished packing his weaponry.

“Oh, my dearest,” Frigga murmured before sweeping across the floor to sit beside Loki on the bed and wrap her arms about him. Loki did not resist, leaning into her for comfort. “I will talk to your father and ask him once more for leniency,” she promised. Loki smiled sardonically.

“I thank you for your kindness,” he said, pulling away enough to face her, “but the King would have to revoke his decree if I am not to be punished... and he would never break his own word.”

Frigga pursed her lips, knowing it to be true but still finding it galling.

Meanwhile Clint came back into the bedroom to do a final check of the drawers, then he went into the bathroom to do the same there. He lifted the lid of the hamper and grimaced at the sight of his laundry.

“Ugh! No time to wash ’em... might as well pitch ’em,” he grumbled, striding out to the kitchen to grab the trash bag. He threw in the perishable contents of his refrigerator – mostly boxes of leftover Chinese take-out – before returning to retrieve the dirty clothes. When he began stuffing them into the bag, however, Loki cried out.

“Stop! Wait!”

“Huh?” Clint said, turning around. Loki had jumped off the bed to approach him.

“Are you going to dispose of those?”

“That’s the idea...”

“I... I would like to keep one of them. Perhaps that shirt,” Loki said, pointing to a gray Henley.

“ _This?_ ” Clint asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I wore it to work out at the gym – it’s filthy and sweaty... and it _smells_.”

“Precisely.” Loki wrung his hands together as though embarrassed by what he was about to say. “But it smells like _you_.” In response to Clint’s disbelieving stare, he elaborated, “In my cell I am cut off from the world outside... not only the sights and the sounds but also the _smells_. Every day the food is different, to be sure, but it is bland and repetitive. There were times,” he gulped, choking back emotion, “times I thought I had forgotten what you looked like. In the daily monotony, lacking almost any stimulation, I felt as though I would go insane... and forget all that existed beyond my four walls.”

Frigga had stood to come up behind Loki, and now she placed her hands upon his shoulders. Loki turned briefly to acknowledge her presence before continuing.

“It would be a great comfort to me... to have something that reminds me of you. No doubt that scent would be strong enough to awaken my senses, no matter how dull they become.”

Clint stared at Loki with pain written on his face. He had not realized some of the most basic ways in which Loki would be affected by his captivity.

“If... If you really want it, of course you can have it,” he said, holding out the sweat-stained shirt. “But really... it’s pretty nasty. Would it work just as well if I gave you another one after wearing it for a day? So it’s not quite so... _rancid_. And if the smell disappears after a while, I could get you another.”

Loki considered what Clint had said, then asked Frigga, “Would that be allowed? I know you have sent me gifts despite the King’s orders, but... would it be possible for him to replace the item periodically?”

“I will make sure that it is,” Frigga declared without hesitation. “Oh, Loki! Had I known, I would have sent you flowers from my garden, herbs and spices and perfumes of every variety...”

“The only perfume I would covet is the one you wear most often, for it would remind me of you,” Loki said soberly. He had avoided using her maternal title, but it mattered little when his sentiment spoke volumes.

“Anything you wish,” Frigga assured him.

With a sigh of relief, Clint dropped the shirt into the garbage bag.

“Honestly, Baby,” he told Loki, “I would rather you remember me as smelling a _little_ better than that!”

Loki laughed in acquiescence. 


	40. The Drive Back

“That’s it? A duffel bag and a weapons case?” Tony asked incredulously.

“That’s it,” Clint told him, setting the two items down.

“Well, ya gotta take this La-Z-Boy, right?” Tony persisted. He was lying back in the chair in his full armor after having demonstrated to Frigga its reclining mechanism. “This is like the most comfortable chair I’ve ever set my ass on!”

Clint had to chuckle. “That’s because it’s worn in. You can have it if you want. I’m not gonna ask them to transport my friggin’ furniture to another planet or realm or whatever.”

“Damn, that’s a tempting offer,” Tony said as he pulled the lever and moved into an upright sitting position, “but I can’t... I literally can’t, since I promised Pepper she’d have free reign with the new interior décor. Guess I’ll just have to stop by from time to time to relax here. You have a great collection of CDs, by the way – all the classic rock albums. I had no idea people still owned CDs.” He turned to Steve and explained, “They’re like records, only smaller.”

“You see anything you like, it’s yours,” Clint said to both Tony and Steve. “I’m traveling light.”

“You got an iPod or something with all your tunes?” Tony asked, making Clint laugh.

“Nah. It’s all right; I’ll live.” He turned to Maria and gave her his keychain. “The car goes to Tasha. She’s listed as a driver on the insurance papers already, but can you make sure the title gets transferred to her?”

“I’ll personally see that it gets handled,” she assured him.

Clint took one last sweeping look at the apartment. “I guess that’s it, then. Let’s go.”

When they had traipsed down the stairs and settled back into the SUVs, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents reconvening like ants swarming on food, Loki snuggled against Clint and closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?” Clint asked, although he thought he knew the reason.

“For... everything,” Loki answered. “For leaving your home... your friends, your career, everything... just to be with your child.”

“And _you_ ,” Clint reminded him, holding the demigod slightly away to peer into his face. “Don’t forget that!”

Loki gazed at Clint for a long moment, lost in the intensity of Clint’s gray-green eyes. “You don’t seem to understand... or perhaps you’re more of an optimist than I took you for,” he finally remarked. “Once back on Asgard, I will be able to offer you very little in the way of companionship.”

“Maybe the question is, what will _I_ be able to offer _you_ ,” Clint pointed out. “I’ll be able to come visit you, won’t I? Talk to you about stuff?”

“I... I hope so,” Loki said, casting a quick glance at Frigga, who was in a conversation with Steve about Asgardian flowers. “Odin had forbidden the Queen from visiting me, but she was still able to send her projection into my cell, so if the guards do not allow you to enter the dungeons, you can ask her for aid. Ever since I was found to be with child, she has defied Odin’s orders – to his face – to provide me with what comfort she could. But I fear he will not stand for it much longer... He will probably begin enforcing his restrictions upon my return. However, the Queen can at least find a way to get messages through, I am sure. And... I will request that you be present at the time of the child’s birth. Perhaps for the child’s sake, the King will relent.”

Clint squeezed Loki’s shoulder and pulled him in to kiss his cheek. Loki sighed and leaned against him.

“There are times when I truly wish I had been born with the gift of foresight,” Loki said, his voice filled with regret. “Had I known I would have found such a man as you... I would not have cast my life and future away so rashly. I would have spent my youth scouring the Nine Realms, looking for you.”

“What would you have done when you’d found me?” Clint asked in a teasing tone, trying to steer Loki into more pleasant avenues of thought. “Would you still have kidnapped me and made me your love slave?”

“No... I would have watched you while remaining invisible to your sight... to observe your Midgardian ways and learn of your interests,” Loki said, contemplating his strategy. “Next I would have appeared to you as a Human, perhaps seducing you if the opportunity arose...”

“Oh, it would have arisen,” Clint told him with a smirk and a nudge, making Loki chuckle.

“Indeed! And then, once I was assured of your regard, I would have told you who I really was and from whence I came.” Loki paused. “Although if my foresight did not also give me a clear vision of the past, I would not have known the truth of my own origins... so I would have misled you, though not intentionally.”

“I wouldn’t have held that against you,” Clint said. “I just wish I could have been there to help you through the shock of finding out.”

Loki’s liquid eyes sought his lover’s. “And you would have been... of infinite comfort to me.”

They kissed, slowly savoring each other, oblivious to all else around them. At long last Loki tore his lips away and buried his face against Clint’s shoulder. He fought to control the rising tempest of his emotions; only after he succeeded did he continue speaking.

“Had I known of my parentage before the coronation, I would not have attempted to prevent Thor’s ascension, for I would have realized that Odin never intended to place me on his throne. I would not have wasted my time and energies trying to prove myself Thor’s better, knowing that nothing – not even slaying my Jötun sire – would have sufficed to convince the All-Father...”

“Your Jötun...” Clint echoed, shocked as his brain comprehended what Loki had just said. “You mean... you killed your own _father?_ ”

“Yes.” Loki’s voice was subdued but unrepentant. “He had abandoned me to die when I was a mere infant; I owed him no loyalty. And I thought... I had planned to lure Laufey to Asgard and kill him in Odin’s presence. The only part that went awry was the All-Father succumbing to the Odinsleep – I had wished for him to see me destroy the Jötun King with his own eye – but it was of little consequence, for in the end my exploits meant nothing to him. All he had ever cared about was his own son; I was merely a tool he had hoped to use against Jötunheim, but even when I razed that world with the Bifröst, he had no word of approbation to give me.”

The nonchalant manner in which Loki said this could not hide his pain from his lover. Clint wrapped him in strong arms and pulled him into a crushing embrace.

“So you killed one father to try to impress the other... and ended up with neither?” Clint asked, his voice gentle, as though too harsh a pronouncement might shatter his lover’s heart completely.

Loki swallowed, pursed his lips, and nodded. Clint released him from his stranglehold, though he still held him close.

“And your biological father... was the King of the Jötuns?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re still a prince... of a race just as powerful as the Asgardians.”

“Very nearly,” Loki conceded. “The Æsir defeated them during the last war... I was, after all, one of the spoils Odin took from Jötunheim. But from a Midgardian perspective, I suppose the Jötun would seem just as powerful. They are certainly larger, more intimidating, and more alien.”

“Huh.” Clint tucked a stray strand of Loki’s hair behind his ear, then studied his lover’s delicate features while trailing a thumb down his cheek. “So... when do I get to see your Jötun side?”

“Never!” Loki replied swiftly, horrified at the thought. “It is... hideous. I do not want you to see me that way... ever.”

“I would love you just the same,” Clint insisted. Loki only shook his head.

“You say that because you have never seen a Frost Giant. There is a reason why Asgardian children are told tales of the Jötun as a warning not to misbehave! I... I would not willingly have you see me... in that form.”

Clint kissed Loki’s tortured brow, trying to smooth away his concern. “All right. I won’t ask you to show me... unless you want to. Because I know you would be handsome in any form, even if it is a little ‘intimidating.’ You’ll always be my beautiful Prince.”

The way he looked at Loki then – adoring and also teasingly seductive – caused the demigod to literally throw himself at the Human, flinging his hands behind Clint’s shoulders along with the chains so he could press more closely against him. Clint steadied himself while guiding Loki to sit over his lap. He felt a warm splash on his cheek and knew it had fallen from one of Loki’s emerald eyes.

“Oh, Baby... it’s all right,” he murmured soothingly, rubbing the small of his back.

“It is _not_ all right,” Loki contradicted, then convulsed with a sob. “If only I had known...! If only Odin had told me what I really was, I would have left the throne to Thor, whether he was capable of it or not; I would not have incurred the All-Father’s wrath; and I would not be rotting in the bowels of an Asgardian prison now! I would have been free to live with you here on Midgard... perhaps, as you described, to raise our child in the wild, open country that you love. With my powers unfettered, I could have protected you from any outburst from the child... We could have been together...”

“We also would have never met,” Clint pointed out. “If your life hadn’t taken this exact course, our paths would never have crossed. And unless you’ve got a time machine on Asgard, there’s no point in wishing your past was different. So stop looking back – we’ve all got regrets. Let’s just try to focus on the future, okay? Let’s make the best of it, do the best we can with what we’ve got, and be the best dads for our kid.”

Loki peered down into Clint’s upturned face from his vantage point. He could not stop the next few tears from rolling down his cheeks, but when he bent over to claim the archer’s lips in his own, he forgot why anything else had ever mattered to him before. 


	41. Before Leaving

Steve was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on what Frigga was saying as Loki and Clint, on the other side of the SUV’s spacious but limited interior, grew more passionate in their expressions of affection. In fact he was quite certain that if he and the Queen were not also in the cabin, the couple would have started doing what they had been doing on the viewscreen the previous day, so he was very relieved when the vehicle pulled up to the Bifröst landing/takeoff site a few miles from the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. He was even happier to see Bruce waiting for them along with Fury and Thor. Tony landed as the convoy slowed to a stop.

Steve assisted the Queen out of the vehicle before joining Bruce, who was smiling but hanging back shyly. Before they could engage in small talk, however, Thor’s voice rumbled out in challenge.

“Director Fury has told me that you desire to live on Asgard to be near your child. Is this still your intention?”

“It is,” Clint answered calmly. “I just went and packed my bags. You got a problem with that?”

“I must speak with you before I can agree to this. You may be grievously deceived.”

“What do you mean?” Clint asked, his brow furrowing. He kept his arm around Loki’s waist, holding him by his side.

“I have been informed about a condition that affects Humans,” Thor said. “It is called Stockholm Syndrome. It may be affecting your judgment in matters pertaining to Loki.”

Clint’s easy laugh startled Thor. “I’m aware of it, and no, I don’t have it – never did.”

“But... how can you be so certain? By its very nature, it will warp your perception of the truth.”

“It would if I had it, sure,” Clint agreed, “but think about what I did after I got knocked to my senses: I tried to _kill_ Loki. Shot a grenade at him and even managed to blast him off his flyer. If I’d had any trace of Stockholm Syndrome, I shouldn’t have been able to release that arrow. But the fact of the matter is, I hated Loki’s guts when I was snapped out of his mind control; I only fell in love with him _after_ I got back all of my memories, including the one he tried to hide from me.”

Remembering what had happened during the time Loki had suppressed his memory – and what had been revealed – made Clint’s blood boil with anger. However, Thor merely looked to and fro between the lovers, his expression confused, unaware that the archer knew of his sordid past with his adopted brother.

“Then... are you claiming that you only felt affection for him... _after_ he had been taken back to Asgard?” Thor asked to be certain.

“Yeah. Although I’ll admit, it was fun running around with him... apart from the whole take-over-the-world ploy, you know.” Clint smirked and pulled Loki even closer. “But it was only after I was freed from the mind control and could remember everything, see everything with my own eyes – with some time to cool off and be rational about what had happened, too – that I realized what an amazing, intelligent, and... interesting guy he is. You really are, you know,” he said, turning to address Loki directly. “ _Amazing_.”

Loki allowed a small smile to curve his lips, which tantalized Clint into kissing them. It left Thor gaping at the two with a burning desire to pull them apart and beat some sense into them, which he only barely resisted.

Clint returned his attention to Thor and noticed his clenched fists with surprise. He then observed the veins pulsing in Thor’s temple and had an epiphany: _Thor still cares about Loki_. Since Clint had heard only Loki’s version of the events of their youth, he had assumed that Thor had abandoned Loki because he had never truly loved him; to see the hulking god of thunder now seething with rage over their kiss forced Clint into a paradigm shift. _Perhaps Loki had misjudged his brother – perhaps Thor had not wanted to end their relationship_. It made him feel more kindly towards Thor, even though he still considered it reprehensible that the demigod had initiated an incestuous relationship with his younger brother. But if Thor had any noble feelings left toward Loki, it might be possible for him to repair some of the damage he had done to Loki’s heart and self-worth. And for Loki’s sake, Clint was willing to give Thor the benefit of the doubt.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” Clint told him, even though he suspected Thor’s motive for trying to dissuade him from going to Asgard was tainted with a selfish desire to keep Loki for himself. “I realize how it looks, but really, I’m fine. If it’s any consolation, even if I hated Loki’s guts I would still want to go to Asgard just to be close to the kid... but that’s simply not the case.”

Thor studied Clint’s face as if assessing his sanity, then turned to Loki, who had remained unwontedly silent throughout their exchange. His expression was closed at the moment, his lips pursed into a thin line, and he was refusing to meet Thor’s gaze.

“I don’t mean to be a wet blanket,” Steve spoke up, startling everyone, “but Clint... I was also going to ask if you’re aware of the high level of pheromones Loki’s putting out. They could be affecting your judgment as well, so I wouldn’t want you to make such a big decision based on what you’re feeling – although I understand how you’d want to be close to your kid, regardless.”

“I’m aware of that, too,” Clint replied testily. “Loki told me about it himself.”

“He did?” Steve said, surprised. Clint nodded.

“And like I said before, I started having feelings for him when he was in a prison on Asgard – when there was _no way_ the pheromones could have been affecting me. So while I appreciate all your concern, I’m really _not_ delusional or under the influence or suffering from some weird-ass mental disorder. Are you all satisfied? Or does anybody else want to raise an objection?”

Tony broke the uncomfortable, absolute silence that followed with the mock-solemn invocation, “Speak now or forever hold your peace!”

“Damn right,” Clint muttered under his breath, then placed another kiss on Loki’s drawn cheek. As he did so, however, a flash of red caught his eye – Natasha had turned away as though unwilling to witness any more of their public displays of affection.

“There is one last thing I need to clear up, though,” Clint told Loki before releasing his grip on him to walk over to her. She looked up at him and, for a brief moment, panic flashed in her eyes. “Tasha,” he said quietly, “I need to know you’re okay with this.”

She stared at him, desperately trying to hide her internal struggle although she knew she was deceiving no one. After a minute, she answered honestly.

“No. I am _not_ okay with this. But... I think you’re doing the right thing... for the baby. You... You’re a father now... and that changes everything.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “It does. But it would mean a lot to me if... if I could have your blessing.”

Shocked, Natasha let her mouth hang open; she did not know what to say to that. In her agitation she happened to glance at Loki, who was staring at her with a haunted expression. As a trained expert in reading emotions, she saw the fear in Loki’s eyes – the fear that if she disapproved vehemently enough, Clint might change his mind... that Loki might lose the support and comfort of having the father of his child by his side. Suddenly she realized that the Loki who had mocked her from inside the cage, who had placed such horrific images in her mind with only his voice as a weapon, had been _bluffing_ ; he would never have killed Clint as long as his puppet remained loyal to him, and his spiteful words about killing her had merely been an outlet for the obvious jealousy he felt towards Clint’s former lover. And in that instant she realized that Loki was _human_ , not a god, with insecurities as well as faults – and that enabled her to feel pity for him.

“You have it,” she told Clint crisply, not trusting her voice to keep from wavering any longer than that.

“Thanks,” Clint said, equally tersely, but the way he looked at her communicated that he understood what an effort it had cost her to say those three short words. When he wrapped her in a strong embrace, she knew he was thanking her – for everything. For their entire relationship, which Natasha was certain had now become a thing of the past.

When they broke apart, Steve stepped forward to shake Clint’s hand and wish him good luck, followed closely by Bruce, then Tony and Maria. Fury was last, clapping the archer’s shoulder and saying under his breath, “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” Clint answered.

Fury nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will. Thanks.” Clint looked around at the assembled group. “Okay, so... if there aren’t any other objections, I’m ready to be beamed up... or however the hell this works.”

“Wait!” Tony ordered. “You can’t leave yet – not for another... five minutes. I have a baby slash congratulations-on-your-new-job-on-another-planet, assuming you get one as planned, gift coming.”

Clint let out an exasperated sound but Loki quietly sighed in relief. Every second they could delay their return to Asgard was another second he was able to be with Clint, physically touching him. When Loki sidled up to his lover, Clint realized this and held him close.

Meanwhile, Frigga approached Thor. “There is another matter we should discuss while we wait,” she told him. “I had suggested to the Director that Clint could be considered a man ‘on loan’ to the Herǫr Drengr and that we might arrange for an Asgardian warrior to take his place here on Midgard.”

Thor’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “That is... unusual... though not unreasonable.”

Frigga smiled sweetly at him. “I thought perhaps you might know of someone who would be willing to remain on Midgard...”

“Do you mean to suggest... that _I_ remain here in Clint Barton’s place?” Thor asked, stunned.

“It would allow you to be near Jane Foster,” she pointed out.

“So it would...” Thor said, pondering the idea. However, remembering how Jane had said she needed more time to get her life in order, he was doubtful that she would be ready to welcome him at the present. “I must consider this further before making a decision.” He turned to Fury and promised, “I will see that you are compensated with a worthy warrior ere long. Who it shall be... I will relay to you through the radio communicator.”

“Fair enough,” Fury agreed.

An older model Iron Man suit landed nearby in a cloud of desert dust. Tony took out a rectangular device from the empty chest cavity, then presented it to Clint with unrestrained glee.

“Behold: the StarkTunes model 3000, the most advanced technology for portable music enjoyment! This is actually a prototype – it won’t hit the market until next year – but it’s got a few features that will come in handy where you’re going. First of all, it’s solar powered,” he said while pressing a button. Two sections slid out of the top and unfolded to create panels that tilted automatically for maximum light exposure. “You won’t have to worry about interfacing it with whatever power system they have in Asgard. Secondly, it’s got an Ultra-HD display that will show you the lyrics, with a bouncing ball option. Thirdly,” Tony added, bringing up the index on the display, “I’ve got all of the classic rock, pop, and metal songs from the past five decades programmed into it, for like a gazillion hours of music altogether. Enjoy!”

Clint had listened with growing pleasure evident in his grin.

“Thanks, Tony. This is... wow... it’s perfect!”

“Oh, and here’s something for your baby-mama,” Tony said, pulling out another box from the delivery suit. “The finest Swiss chocolates for all your preggo cravings,” he told Loki while presenting the 2-pound box with a flourish. Loki was too astonished to form a reply.

“Thanks, man,” Clint said, accepting it on his lover’s behalf. “These are really great. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

Tony made a self-deprecating gesture. “Don’t mention it! After all, it’s not every day that I get to send off a friend to another realm to have a half-alien baby with our former nemesis.”

Clint managed to stuff both the device and the box of chocolates into his duffel bag, which he then slung over his shoulder, while Loki held his weapons case. Frigga thanked the group, and Maria in particular, for their hospitality. Then she pulled out the Tesseract from the ether and bid her sons and Clint to take hold of the various handles on its new, Asgardian container. In a flash of light that lit up the sky, they left Midgard. 


	42. Broken Bridge

The group landed on the Rainbow Bridge some distance from the broken edge where reconstruction of the Bifröst had begun. The Bridge no longer pulsed with light and power, its structure as clear as ice over the roiling waters. Heimdall, Sif, and the Warriors Three were there to welcome them.

“We rejoice at your safe return, Queen Frigga,” Sif said with a formal bow. “I trust your stay in Midgard was not too unpleasant?”

“It was delightful,” Frigga told her with a smile.

“And you must be Clint Barton,” Fandral said, assessing the man with frank curiosity. “Heimdall told us you would be coming. Welcome to Asgard.”

“Thanks,” Clint responded, also taking the measure of each of the Æsir warriors as he shifted his duffel bag onto his shoulder. He had seen all but Heimdall in the video footage from the New Mexico incident, but he thought to himself that they were far more intimidating in person. Then he looked around at the skeletal structure of the new Bifröst cannon, the water’s edge where the sea spilled over endlessly into space, and the golden city in the distance. “Nice place,” was his succinct comment.

“The All-Father has ordered that the prisoner and the Human be brought before him,” Heimdall announced. “We have prepared horses for all of you.”

Clint heard a sudden gasp escape Loki and turned to him. “What is it?” he asked, concerned to see Loki’s face grow ashen. “What’s the matter, Baby?”

Loki was biting his lower lip hard – so hard that Clint worried he would draw blood – and clenching the handle of Clint’s bow case in an attempt to keep his hands from trembling. Clint enveloped him in his arms at once.

“He means to send you back,” Loki whispered against his ear.

“What?”

“Odin... He would not have called for us unless...” Loki’s voice trailed off.

“Shhh,” Clint said, holding him tightly. “You don’t know that.”

“Oh, but I _do_ ,” Loki hissed, bitterness tainting each word. “I should have known better than to hope... Why would he allow me to have any _solace_ in my punishment? He had already decreed that I never see my mother again; why would he let me enjoy your company, however limited as it might be through the prison walls? Now that he knows how much you mean to me... of course he would not allow it. I was a _fool_...”

Clint continued to rub Loki’s back, trying to console him but to no avail – the hapless demigod choked back the first few sobs, then gave up any pretense and wept on Clint’s shoulder openly. Clint felt his gut clench with frustration and helplessness. While he wanted to believe that the All-Father could not be so cruel, he had only ever heard Loki’s terse remarks about him, so he had to admit the possibility that Loki’s conjecture was correct. And if so, there was nothing a mere mortal could do about it.

“What is troubling you, Loki?” Frigga asked, coming to his side. When Loki did not answer, she focused her questioning gaze on Clint.

“He’s worried... Odin won’t let me stay,” he explained. “Or if he does, that he won’t let me visit him in the prison.”

“Loki! What foolishness is this,” Frigga chided, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Your father knows I have sanctioned this arrangement; he will not gainsay it. What reason could he have to do so? Shush, my dearest... there is no cause for such distress.”

As Loki’s sobs slowly abated, Clint noticed that the smallest of the Warriors Three was standing near, waiting, with something in his hands. The archer’s heart seemed to fall through his feet, straight through the darkened Bridge to the waters below, when he recognized what Hogun was holding.

“ _Shackles?_ ” Clint burst out, feeling a flush of rage spreading through his body. Hogun did not so much as flinch, the heavy chains lying still in his hands. Clint asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm, “Are those for Loki... or me?”

“Of course they are not for you,” Thor replied in Hogun’s stead, frowning with indignation. “You are our guest and under the Queen’s protection. Loki, however... is still a criminal. He cannot enter the All-Father’s presence unless properly bound.”

“Seems like overkill to me,” Clint retorted. “He’s already got the manacles to keep him from using his magic. They worked well enough on Earth. What’s Odin so afraid of?”

“It is our law,” Thor said with a hint of a growl. “No violent criminal may enter the throne room without being bound hand and foot. The All-Father fears nothing; it is to remind the criminal of his place.”

“To humiliate him, in other words.” Clint returned Thor’s glare with an equally stony one. “I get it. That’s just how you operate around here: shock and awe.”

“Surely that can wait until we have entered the palace?” Frigga interjected, addressing Hogun and disrupting the growing tension. “It would make the ride back needlessly difficult.”

Hogun inclined his head in acknowledgment and withdrew a few paces. Clint returned his attention to Loki, who was struggling to pull himself back together, leaving Thor to stare balefully at the two of them.

“Baby, shhh... It’ll be all right. We’ll work it out somehow,” Clint whispered, kissing Loki’s tear-stained cheeks. “Don’t get yourself so worked up – it’s not good for the kid. We’ll figure something out, I promise...”

Loki hiccupped, fighting to control his emotions, and spit out the words, “Damn hormones!”

Clint let out a light chuckle, realizing that the demigod was trying to save face even now. “No kidding. You’re a perfect mess... but a _hot_ mess, Baby.” He took the weapons case that Loki had been gripping and set it down, freeing Loki’s delicate hands so he could hold them in his own. “Listen... I know I don’t have the clout to get anything done in this world, but we’ve got your mom on our side, and she’s got a shitload of clout, right? And I’m never gonna stop trying. I want to be with you, and the kid is going to need you, so I’m gonna keep looking for some way to make that happen. I promise.”

Loki swallowed and hiccupped again, but he fixed his bleary eyes on Clint’s and nodded.

“I know you will,” he answered, gripping his lover’s hands tightly.

“Damn right,” Clint assured him before pulling him into a bear hug. “You’re damn right I will!”

Loki sniffed as he clung to Clint’s shoulders. After a few minutes, sensing that their escorts were growing restless, he pressed his lips to the Human’s cheek and straightened his spine to stand tall.

“I have one request, if I may,” he said, addressing Frigga. “I see that my old horse has been brought for me. I would ask that Clint be allowed to ride with me to the palace; Svadilfari is strong enough to carry both of us.”

“I see no reason to deny your wish.” Frigga glanced at Thor and, when he did not object, nodded her assent. Loki walked over to the stallion with as much dignity as he could muster after having such a total meltdown. Clint followed with his luggage.

“How are you supposed to get up on there with your hands bound?” he asked Loki in an undertone.

“I can manage it if you will assist me,” he replied, placing one foot in the stirrup. “Hold me so I do not fall when I swing my leg over.” Clint steadied Loki in his strong arms as the demigod leaned forward to straddle the horse. When Loki sat erect and proud on the stallion’s back, Clint grinned, marveling at the gracefulness of Loki’s fluid movements.

“This one will carry your bags,” a female voice stated from behind him, startling Clint. Sif placed a coil of rope on the back of another horse. “They do not seem heavy, but there is no need to burden Svadilfari with them as well.”

Clint gave her a curt nod and used the rope to strap his case and duffel bag securely to the horse’s saddle. Then he returned to Loki’s horse and swung up into the saddle behind him, circling his arms around his waist to find the baby bump. When Clint patted it, he could feel Loki take a deep breath, attempting to relax.

“It’s all right, Baby. I’ve got you,” Clint told him, squeezing him above his precious bulge.

Loki twisted around to face him and get a quick kiss. “For now,” he replied, pain shadowing his brow. As the group began to move along the Bridge toward the city, Loki leaned back against Clint, obviously trying to maintain as much physical contact for as long as possible.

Clint tried to think of a plan while they rode closer to the impossibly high skyscrapers. Almost every pertinent piece of information he had on Odin had come from Loki, and Clint was clear-sighted enough to realize that his lover was probably biased in his opinion from having had such a tumultuous relationship with the All-Father.

 _Would he really try to kick me out of Asgard?_ he wondered. _Or even if he wouldn’t do that, knowing it would piss off the Queen, would he keep me from seeing Loki? If so,_ why _would he do that? Because Loki needs to be punished for his crimes, or because he just hates Loki and wants to hit him where it hurts? But then, why did he even adopt Loki in the first place? Was that a “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer” sort of deal?_

Clint wished he knew more about Odin before he had to meet him for such a crucial moment. As an assassin, the archer had handled himself in many unexpected scenarios, but he always preferred going into situations with as much background information available. However, that was not a luxury he had at the moment.

_Even assuming he lets me stay and visit Loki, what will happen once the kid is born? Will Loki be allowed to take care of it and be a parent, or will the Queen take over and Loki only have some visiting hours? Would I still be able to visit him then, or will I have to ask the Queen to smuggle notes to Loki? And what will my role as the dad look like? Dammit, I don’t know anything about babies, but they better not try to cut me – or Loki – out of the kid’s life!_

Clint tightened his hold on Loki, causing the demigod to drop the reins to place his hands on Clint’s. Svadilfari did not need to be told where to go, anyway.

 _Would it be possible to appeal to his better nature?_ Clint continued to ponder. _Would it even matter to Odin that the kid will need Loki to be available as a parent? If so, I might have a fighting chance to persuade him. Even if he doesn’t give a shit about Loki, if he cares about the baby at all – or if I could_ guilt-trip _him into caring – that might be a way to gain some latitude. If he really wants Loki to rot in jail, there would be nothing I could do... except hope that Thor becomes King soon. But if Odin just wants to forget about Loki, maybe there’s a way... These manacles seemed to work okay on Earth, after all..._

The Asgardian horses thundered up the Bridge to the palace, drawing some attention from curious citizens, but Clint was lost in thought, his brow furrowed in concentration. 


	43. Meeting Odin

As they neared the impressive structure of the palace, Clint looked up and spotted the archers of the Herǫr Drengr at their posts high above, and he felt some of his doubts dissipate. Here, at least, was something he understood; if he were accepted into the Asgardian military’s archery division, he would be familiar with the work itself. There were many flying craft to look out for, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

He gave Loki a reassuring squeeze when they stopped in front of the palace gate, causing the dark-haired demigod to look back at him with an unfathomable expression. Clint thought he saw resignation and despair, but there was certainly longing for him in that glance – as well as the fierce, stubborn pride that kept Loki’s head held high. After Clint helped him dismount, Loki stepped to the front of the stallion to stroke its nose.

“Farewell, Svadilfari. May they find for you a rider worthy of your mettle,” Loki murmured. The horse whickered as though it understood that its master would never ride it again. Groomsmen came to lead all of the horses back to the stables so Clint removed his things from the other horse, watching Hogun approach Loki with the shackles.

“One moment, if you will,” Loki said, then turned to face Clint, all traces of mirth gone from his face. “I want you to know,” he began, faltering a moment as his emotions nearly overcame him, “that... regardless of what happens... I am grateful that you even _tried_... that you were _willing_ to do this for me... and for the child.”

“Baby,” Clint responded, wrapping his arms around him, “of course I would. No need to thank me... I love you.”

Loki’s face crumpled and he looked down, breathing hard as he struggled to maintain control. “I love you too,” he finally confessed under his breath, and Clint held him tightly, knowing how difficult it was for the god of lies to bare his heart in those words. Loki clung to him, gripping his shirt in desperate fistfuls while pulling himself together. “Remember what I had said... about our child,” he managed at last. “If he does not have outstanding powers, he will not be welcome here. Please... if you are able, take him to your world. My mother will give you such aid as you need. I would rather spend my days in solitude, knowing that my child is happy...” here his voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue, “than to have him ridiculed for his parentage.”

“I know, Baby,” Clint assured him, “but let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, all right? He might just blow everyone away with how talented he is. He _is_ my son, after all!”

That elicited a half-hearted laugh from Loki. “Yes, of course... my very talented Hawk. But I must tell you this now... in case I am not able to speak with you again.”

The look in Loki’s eyes sent a shock of physical pain through Clint.

“You really think... he would do that? Keep us from meeting?” he asked, though it was mostly rhetorical.

“Yes,” was Loki’s simple answer. He gazed at Clint’s face as though trying to commit every detail of it to memory. Even Volstagg noisily clearing his throat did not distract him.

“Um... We’ve delayed quite a while, don’t you think?” Fandral mentioned to no one in particular. “We mustn’t keep the King waiting...”

Loki leaned in to give Clint a passionate, soul-searing kiss, which the Human eagerly reciprocated. Fandral fell silent as the two lovers locked their lips in a wordless pledge. When they finally parted, Loki’s cheeks were wet once again; Clint wiped them dry with his thumbs. The other Asgardians had been watching the couple’s exchange with varying degrees of shock, revulsion, and pity, but none of that registered with either Clint or Loki.

Then Loki stepped away from Clint and moved toward Hogun, submitting to being shackled. The somber party did not move into the palace until the prisoner was completely bound in chains, two of them trailing out from his waist to be held by Volstagg and Hogun. Frigga and Thor led the group with Loki and his captors following, then Clint who was flanked by Fandral and Sif. Two guards joined Heimdall to bring up the rear, and the other soldiers saluted as they passed through the cavernous entrance.

Clint could hear the blood rushing in his ears as adrenaline kicked in to prepare his body for fight-or-flight mode. He rarely ever chose flight; he focused on breathing deeply to calm himself, knowing he would need to rely on brains rather than brawn for this fight. When the group walked down corridors with soaring columns, he glanced around automatically for hidden ambush points and perches, gratified to find guards already in the positions he would have chosen to occupy. The architecture was designed to awe and intimidate, and while he could not help but admire the intricate craftsmanship of the bas relief carvings, he was not about to be cowed by the mere size of the place.

They walked a significant distance and rode in a lift with a breathtaking view of the city, arriving at last in the throne room where a stairway led up to the dais and the throne itself was comprised of even more steps. Clint took in the appearance of the All-Father, grim and authoritative and exuding an aura of power. He sensed Odin’s singular eye studying him in return but did not flinch from it; he knew he could not afford to show any sign of weakness. He set his weapons case and duffel bag down with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

“It is good to have you back, my Queen,” Odin said, deliberately addressing Frigga first. “And Thor... I trust your trip to Midgard was... fruitful?”

“I believe so,” Thor answered, genuflecting before the throne while Frigga mounted the stairs to stand at her usual place beside it. Odin’s eye traveled back to survey Loki and Clint.

“So. Loki. Is this the father of your child?”

Loki rolled his eyes, glancing up at the ceiling as though unbearably inconvenienced by such an obvious question. “Who else could it possibly be?” he scoffed, cloaking himself with a semblance of his old, haughty arrogance. “Yes, this is Clint Barton, the Midgardian archer.”

“Clint Barton,” Odin pronounced, staring at the Human as though attempting to bore a hole through him. “Why have you come? Asgard is no place for a mortal man.”

Clint was already detesting the way he had to crane his neck to look up at the throne, but he kept his tone neutral as he boldly replied, “My place is with Loki and my child. I wish to provide for them as best I can, wherever they may be. Surely, as the All-Father, you can appreciate that... Sir.”

There was a well-couched challenge in the statement, notwithstanding the respectful title added seemingly as an afterthought. The room was filled with stunned silence for a moment. The Asgardian warriors – Thor included – held their breath while they awaited Odin’s response. Loki turned to observe Clint with widened eyes.

“So you think yourself worthy of the Herǫr Drengr?” Odin said in a low voice, almost a growl.

“That remains to be seen,” Clint replied reasonably, unfazed. “But if not, I’m willing to do any other honest work available. I don’t intend to be a burden on anybody... or for my son to be a charity case.”

Another hidden barb, which only Odin, Frigga, and Loki recognized – a subtle reference to Loki and the difference of his treatment from Thor’s.

“And if you are, by some chance, deemed acceptable for the Herǫr Drengr, will you swear fealty to this throne?” Odin demanded, not-so-subtly reminding Clint of his position. “Will you swear to defend Asgard from its enemies, even at the cost of your fleeting Human life? To follow every order upon pain of death, in peacetime and in war?”

“I will,” Clint stated without hesitation, “so long as your cause is just and your quarrel honorable.”

He had no way of knowing that Odin had just presented him with the oath every Einherjar warrior was sworn to keep; he also did not realize that none of them had ever dared to add anything that might be construed as a stipulation. So he simply assumed that Odin was glaring at him in a continued effort to intimidate him. Not only was Clint undaunted, he considered the best defense to be a strong offense.

“However, I would like to suggest an alternative – one that might not have occurred to you before – which would be of mutual benefit,” he said, willing himself not to clench his hands and betray how nervous he felt.

“An alternative,” Odin echoed, scarcely believing his ears.

Clint gestured at the manacles on Loki’s wrists. “Your people have devised a way to prevent Loki from using his magic. During his recent stay on Midgard, it worked perfectly. He had no more powers than Thor did when you banished him to our realm.”

It was another subtle reminder of the disparity in the punishments for the two princes, or rather, the prince and the adopted Frost Giant. Clint thought he saw a vein throb at Odin’s temple and continued on, encouraged.

“As long as Loki is restricted by that device, he could be remanded to Midgard to pay for his crimes there. Having worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., I can assure you that he would be kept in a secure location, isolated from the rest of the world, where he would pose no threat. And, since he and my son will be on Midgard, so will I.”

Odin’s glower did not lessen one whit in its intensity. “What makes you think I would agree to this... arrangement?” he demanded.

Clint shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture of indifference. “Nothing... except that it’s a reasonable request. Loki may have been judged for his crimes on Asgard, but he hasn’t been made to answer for his crimes on Midgard yet.”

“You would presume to pass judgment on one of _us?_ ” Odin cried in outrage.

“As I understand it, Loki _isn’t_ one of you,” Clint replied coolly. “And even though we Humans may be weak and short-lived compared to you, we’re not incapable of understanding the concept of justice. Ever since we first became aware of the existence of Asgard and the other realms – when you sent Thor to Midgard and your Destroyer leveled an entire town – we’ve been preparing to defend ourselves from powerful beings like you. I have to say we did a damn good job of fighting off the Chitauri, although we appreciated having Thor assist us. But I’m confident that Midgard is ready to shoulder the burden of her own future now. Humanity no longer needs gods... although we would be honored to have you as our allies.”

Loki had listened to his lover’s speech with increasing admiration. He hardly cared what Odin’s response would be, he was so thrilled to discover how capable Clint was of making cogent, logical arguments – a trait he hoped their child would inherit – and he was also moved to witness the Human do so to the All-Father’s face, perfectly calm despite the terrible risk. Loki knew Clint’s heart well enough to realize that he had done this for Loki and their child: for their _family_. He had never felt more proud of someone other than himself.

“You speak as though you have stolen Loki’s tongue,” Odin gruffly muttered, surprising all present with the unexpected compliment. “But Loki has not finished paying for his crimes on Asgard yet,” he continued. “If Midgard wishes to make him pay for his crimes there, it will have to wait until his term here is finished. Perhaps by then Midgard will be capable of enforcing his punishment on its own – without relying on Asgardian technology.”

Clint’s forehead furrowed and his eyes narrowed. “But Loki’s sentence is for life.”

“So it is,” Odin agreed, as though he had only just remembered it. “And since Loki’s crimes on Asgard predate his crimes on Midgard, it would seem your realm will not have satisfaction in this matter – except for the knowledge that he will be punished to the full extent of Asgardian law. Your request... is dismissed.” 


	44. Odin's Information

Clint clenched his jaw and wished he could come up with a better response than what immediately popped into his mind – _“I object!”_ – since he realized Odin was both judge and jury in this court. He did not have long to stew, however, for Odin continued speaking as though the Human no longer existed.

“Loki, I summoned you here to inform you of what I discovered regarding your... _condition_... on Jötunheim.”

That startled Loki enough to break his gaze from his lover. Even Thor and Frigga seemed surprised.

“Jötunheim!” Thor echoed. “You went there while we were on Midgard?”

Odin nodded once. “I found Loki’s half-brother Býleistr had succeeded Laufey as king. A third of the realm lies in ruins, so he has moved the seat of his rule to a stronghold in the western mountains. He refused to speak to me until I told him who had wrought such destruction upon his land.” Odin paused, staring searchingly at Loki. “He found it ironic that _you_ had been the one to kill Laufey and destroy his throne. Upon your birth, their priests and prophets had predicted as much.”

Loki’s mouth fell open for a moment. He recollected himself, swallowed hard, and asked, “Is that why I had been left to die?”

“That,” Odin confirmed, “and the fact that you were a ‘curse-born’ – having both male and female within one body, making you small and weak. The Jötun consider them unfit to either fight or breed.”

A laugh escaped Loki’s lips, harsh and bitter. “Imagine that,” he said, showing his teeth in a manic grin. “Yet here I am, heavy with child and in chains for causing chaos on three realms.”

“I informed him of your current condition,” Odin continued steadily, “and asked if it is common in Jötunheim. He assured me that no curse-born has ever borne a child before since they are killed immediately upon their own birth. You, being Laufey’s child, could not be killed outright, for there is an ancient law that forbids any Jötun who has murdered one with royal blood from being king, whether they do so directly or by ordering another to do the deed. So Laufey consulted the priests, and they determined that abandoning a child on the stone altar to their gods was not murder – if the child died, it was ordained to die by the gods; if it lived, it was also by the will of the gods... although they did not stipulate how long you would need to survive on your own before they would consider your life to have been spared by the gods.”

“How _barbaric!_ ” Frigga cried out, unable to restrain herself. The other Asgardians looked appalled, and Clint was horrified.

“So... since you were the one who plucked me thence, do they consider you their god now?” Loki asked Odin, sarcasm permeating his words.

“No,” was the All-Father’s stern answer, “and neither do they consider your life to have been spared. I was an interloper who had meddled with the natural course of events, thereby responsible in part for allowing the prophecies to be fulfilled. Laufey did not know that I had taken you alive; he assumed you had been slain and devoured, as the Jötun would have done in our place. Had he known that you yet lived, he might have shown more care in how he comported himself, for you were foretold to someday wreak havoc upon their realm and become his slayer – as, indeed, you did.”

“So I was merely fulfilling my destiny,” Loki retorted. “How... tedious. Had I known about the prophecies, I would have done something more... unexpected. Turned him into a bilgesnipe, perhaps.”

“Býleistr demanded your death,” Odin told him, hoping to put an end to his sauciness. “He cannot order your execution himself, else he would forfeit his throne, but he proposed that, should I be amenable to arranging it on Asgard, it would go a long way toward repairing the uneasy truce between our realms.”

Loki paled, but before he could utter a word Frigga moved to stand between him and her husband. “You would _not!_ ” she declared in a low voice. Thor moved to her side, effectively blocking Loki from Odin’s view.

“Father, you cannot seriously be entertaining such a demand,” he began, his thunderous tone matching his mother’s. Odin rolled his eye and scowled.

“Of course not!” he snapped. “Jötunheim has been utterly defeated and is now subject to Asgard – they have no right to demand the terms of their own surrender. Even so, it is now impossible to place Loki on their throne to rule as regent, for he has killed Laufey by his own hand. Destroying a third of their land with the Bifröst might have been overlooked as the deed of a conqueror, but the murder of their king cannot.”

Thor staggered back a few steps as the import of Odin’s words struck him. “You mean... you had intended to place Loki... on the throne of Jötunheim?”

“Why else did you think I had brought him back to Asgard, to raise as my own son?” Odin said, enunciating clearly as though talking to a slow child. He looked over Thor’s shoulder at Loki, whose face had gone beyond pale to a deathly white. “You accused me, when I told you of your origins, of imprisoning you here until I had use of you. That ‘use’ would have been no more nor less than the rule of Jötunheim. If that seems too paltry a prize for you, then you may hate me as much as you wish; but I would have given you the birthright your own father had denied you. I was waiting for Laufey to succumb to his old age, hoping that by then you would have matured in your judgment, learning to use your powers for the good of your people. Instead you took matters into your own hands, using treachery to bring Laufey’s men into the very heart of this palace – for what? to humiliate your brother? to make a mockery of my dominion? – thereby proving that you had no more right to rule than Thor did at the time. Both of you have sorely disappointed me, behaving like impulsive, headstrong children! But now the damage is done. Loki, you have plotted your own course and followed it, beyond even my ability to correct, and so you must pay the price for your recklessness.”

The All-Father stood, leaning on Gungnir as though weary from the remembrance of these events, and stared down at Loki, who was struggling to remain steady on his feet. The revelation of Odin’s plans for him had caught him completely by surprise; to know that he had spoiled his own chances for a throne and a crown – even of a desolate realm of perpetual winter like Jötunheim – was almost worse than any punishment Odin could mete out. Feeling faint, Loki prayed to any deities who might condescend to hear him to not let him fall on his knees and humiliate himself any further.

“Loki Odinson,” the All-Father pronounced with an audible sigh. “You are still my son, whether you will or no, and I feel that whatever shortcomings you may have are at least in part a reflection of myself. So, for pity’s sake, as well as for the sake of your child, who has done no wrong, I will allow the father of your child to abide in Asgard for as long as he deems necessary. Do not take this privilege for granted, however; rather use this opportunity to learn the value of life – even the life of a Midgardian mortal. For if you count this man dear, so did others who lost their husbands, wives, children, and friends in your attacks on Midgard and Jötunheim. The Æsir guards who were killed by the Frost Giants you let into the vault also had families, but they will never see their beloved ones again until they meet in Valhalla. Remember this, and ponder how you have wronged so many.”

Loki, downcast, did not respond, which in itself was an unwontedly penitent response. Satisfied, Odin resumed his seat on the throne.

“Býleistr was willing to provide information on Jötun physiology, particularly as it relates to pregnancy,” Odin informed them all in a more conversational tone. “I have given the healers the writings he provided. Although a normal Jötun child gestates for two years, they had records from long ago when Jötun raiders to Midgard had brought back some females as slaves – it seems the two races are not incompatible for mating. A number of them bore children, and their gestation period was much shorter than the Jötun norm, due to their smaller size owing to their Midgardian heritage. They were born fourteen to fifteen months after conception. However, most of the women died in childbirth since the babes were still too large for them.”

Frigga turned to Loki and grasped one of his hands in reassurance. “I will make sure you are safe,” she whispered to him. “You need not worry on that count.”

Loki acknowledged this with a nod, pursing his lips. He still looked stricken from the earlier news.

“The half-breeds were forced into servitude as well,” Odin continued, “and some of them were bred again by the Jötun. In fact, when you were born,” he said, addressing Loki directly, “Laufey investigated your mother’s genealogy since you were much smaller than even the usual curse-born. He discovered that your mother was a descendant of one of those Midgardian women. She was one-eighth Midgardian, in fact, so you are one-sixteenth Midgardian yourself.”

This time Loki thought he really _would_ faint since his mind was reeling from all the information. He felt a strong hand gripping his arm, steadying him, and turned to find that Clint had stepped close to him, having noticed his distress.

“No wonder we’re so compatible,” Clint dryly quipped, his sharp eyes searching Loki’s face.

“Indeed,” Loki managed to murmur. Chained as he was, he could not even reach up to touch Clint’s supporting hand, but he leaned into it to express his gratitude.

“As the child will be more than half Human,” Odin said, speaking primarily to Frigga now, “it would be reasonable to assume its characteristics will be more Human than Jötun: smaller, with a shorter gestation and less magical ability. The records on the half-breeds should provide some insight.”

Frigga nodded, looking relieved as well as anxious to read them for herself. Odin had not mentioned the large quantity of food he had taken to Jötunheim as a gift for the new king to distribute to his subjects, which might have been construed as a bribe or concession to get this information, but he knew his Queen would not have objected to his methods. 


	45. Back into the Cell

The group made its way slowly down through the castle to the dungeons below after being dismissed by the All-Father. At Frigga’s request, Hogun had removed Loki’s shackles as soon as they had left the throne room, but the disgraced prince was unsteady on his feet from the shock of Odin’s many revelations, hampering their progress. Clint had offered his arm for support, which Loki had gratefully taken. Thor longed to offer his own on Loki’s other side but feared a haughty rebuff or, worse yet, a response of genuine confusion followed by polite refusal, for Loki and Clint were intimate in their silence in a way that Thor had never experienced with his former brother; a third member to their coupled walk would have been an unwelcome intrusion, and Thor feared his own presence was so far from Loki’s mind as to be practically forgotten.

Still, despite their slow progress, it did not take long for them to arrive in the dungeon halls and stand before Loki’s cell. Clint assessed the furniture and sterile cleanliness of the room at a glance, then refocused his attention on his lover.

“You know I won’t give up,” he told Loki, his gaze steady and strong. “I’ll keep looking for a way, all right? Just take care of yourself for now and try to rest... for the baby’s sake.”

Loki nodded and clung to him with his still-manacled hands, wishing with all his heart that they did not have to be parted – that he could undo the past and reshape it in some manner so he could stay in the Human’s embrace forever. When Loki heaved a sigh, knowing that such a wish could never be realized, he caught a whiff of Clint’s scent: earthy and masculine and inexplicably comforting.

“My dearest Hawk,” Loki murmured, his lips pressed to Clint’s ear, “might I keep this shirt you are wearing now? To remember you by?”

“Oh! Right. Sure.”

Clint disentangled himself from Loki’s reluctant arms and removed his sleeveless uniform top, much to the surprise of the Asgardians. While Clint opened his duffel bag to pull out a clean shirt and put it on, the Warriors Three and Sif exchanged glances of bewilderment with Thor; the reason for the Human’s actions became clear, however, when they saw Loki clutching the old shirt and burying his face in it. Frigga, having heard Loki’s initial request, grimaced and held a handkerchief to her own eyes, and even Heimdall’s stoic features grew grim.

“It’s all right, Baby,” Clint whispered, cupping Loki’s cheek with one hand. “It’ll be all right, I promise. Here, you should eat some of the chocolate Tony gave you – it’ll make you feel better – all right? And I want you to keep this too,” he added, pulling out the StarkTunes machine and handing it to Loki along with the box of chocolate. “I don’t know if you’ll even _like_ rock music, but at least it’ll keep you company in there.”

“But... Clint,” Loki protested, taken aback, “this was a gift for _you_ – the songs of your people, to remind you of your home.”

Clint grinned in his slightly lopsided way and shrugged. “Nah, don’t worry about it; I’ve got all my favorites in my head already. Besides, I’ll be working, while you’ll be... stuck in this _box_ all day.” His face contorted with distaste as he spoke the word, but his eyes never left Loki’s. “I want you to know something about my culture, about the music I grew up with, ’cuz it’s shaped who I am. I want my _son_ to know it too, eventually... although it might just be noise to him right now. Maybe he’ll feel the beat; they say babies can hear more than we think inside their mama’s tummy...” He rubbed Loki’s bump affectionately. “I hope he grows up to like my world... just as much as yours, so he can take the best of both. He’s got some amazing opportunities that no one else has ever had before. He’ll have plenty of choices...”

“Yes,” Loki agreed, bowing his head to press his cheek against Clint’s. “I hope he will choose wiser paths than I.”

“He will. Because you’ll teach him to.”

Loki pursed his lips and did not answer. He dared not speculate how much time he would be allowed to spend with the child, if at all, but he did not wish to mar their parting with needless argument. He knew that Clint would continue seeking ways to bring about, if not his freedom, at least his ability to nurture their child, and also that the determined archer would protest any pessimistic words he spoke right now. Thinking Clint would need all the help Frigga could give him, Loki looked up at her and noticed she was still struggling to regain her composure.

“If I might be so bold...” he began, causing Frigga to approach him, eager to grant whatever it was he desired. “Would it be permissible for Clint to occupy my former rooms?” Loki asked. “You had mentioned they were still as I had left them...”

“They are. I will not give up hope that you might yet be pardoned and returned to your previous estate,” Frigga confirmed. “But if you wish to have Clint occupy them, I can think of no better use for them.”

“Wait, hold on a sec!” Clint interrupted. “I was going to live in the barracks, just like any other guy. I don’t want to get special treatment.”

“Loki’s rooms are more luxurious than most, as befitting a prince of Asgard,” Frigga told him, “but it would not seem preferential, since as a warrior from Midgard here at _my_ invitation, you would be expected to live in the palace; I would have provided you with rooms similar to Loki’s as my honored guest. And many men of the Herǫr Drengr live with their families in their own homes.”

“Oh,” Clint responded, surprised. Loki managed a faint smile.

“This way you might learn something of _my_ culture – what shaped me. My books, my collections... I hope they might compensate you, in a small way, for leaving your realm.”

Clint felt humbled at having a prince’s chambers offered to him in exchange for a glorified iPod, even if he _had_ left his entire world for Loki and their child’s sake, but he tried not to show how awkward he felt as he said, “Thanks. I... I’ll try not to break anything.”

The ridiculousness of Clint’s concern – as though he could damage something beyond Asgard’s ability to repair – made Loki burst out in a tight laugh, which just as suddenly turned to a sob. The tears he had been holding back broke through his strained control at the remark because it was so quintessentially _Clint_ -like. Frigga swiftly removed the items in Loki’s hands, allowing him to fling his chain over his lover’s head and cling to him once again.

“It’s all right, Baby... It’ll be all right,” Clint repeated in Loki’s ear, wishing (not for the first time) that he were a little taller; as it was, Loki was draped over Clint’s shoulder. But while Clint held his trembling body and rubbed the small of his back, trying to comfort him, Loki’s sobs subsided, and eventually the two of them stood in perfect unity, simply enjoying the ability to touch and be together.

A cough from one of the guards reminded them that it was a privilege about to be revoked.

“You can do this. I know you can,” Clint murmured, stroking Loki’s hair. “I know how strong you are. You have to be strong for the baby, but I’m here for you, all right? I won’t ever leave you.”

Loki nodded, although a cruel voice in the back of his mind reminded him that his Human would die in a matter of decades, not millennia or even centuries, ultimately leaving him; he crushed the thought by reassuring himself that Clint would not leave him of his own will – and was that not the important thing? That his lover _wanted_ to be with him for as long as possible, that he cared for him even to the point of forsaking all he knew and loved in his own realm. That was a sort of loyalty and devotion Loki had scarcely merited before in his life, and as he felt the strength of it in Clint’s loving embrace, he vowed to be worthy of it henceforward.

Frigga had finished putting away his gifts in his cell and now hovered close by, awaiting her turn to embrace him and bid him farewell. Drawing in a deep breath and sniffling one last time, Loki stood at his full height and straightened his shoulders.

“Well, then... it seems our time has run out,” he said, schooling his features into a passable mask of indifference, although Clint noticed how his green eyes flitted about as they tried to commit the archer’s face to memory. “Thank you. For everything.” Loki bit his lower lip for a moment to keep it from quivering. “I wish you the best of fortune as you join the Herǫr Drengr – for I have no doubt that you will – and I hope the pleasures of the Golden City will ease your heart for the loss of... everything you have left behind.”

“Loki... Baby,” Clint replied, gripping his lover by the elbows, “I don’t need to be compensated for that. Don’t you get it? I’m gonna be a _father_ – you’re giving me a _son_. There’s nothing greater than that. It’s no sacrifice at all, Baby, to leave an old job for my family. Don’t worry about it.”

In spite of his resolve, Loki felt hot tears running down his cheeks again. He looked down to hide them, swallowing hard to regain control. Clint wiped them away with his thumbs, then covered the damp tracks with kisses. When Loki had pulled himself together at last, he forced his lips into a small, crooked smile. Clint returned the expression knowingly as they cursed in unison:

_“Damn hormones!”_

The laugh they shared was genuine, even if laced with pain, and it bolstered Loki enough that he was able to give Frigga a grateful hug without breaking down again. Thor stepped up behind her hesitantly and was relieved when Loki gave him a sheepish smile, reminding him of days long past when they had played together as brothers. The god of thunder wrapped his arms around the god of mischief, mindful of the growing life in Loki’s belly and glad to have him safely home again, regardless of the circumstances.

“All right, I’ll admit it,” Loki spoke in a mockingly grudging tone. “For once, you were right.”

“To what are you referring?” Thor asked, puzzled, then added in jest, “I have been right on _more_ than one occasion.”

“You were right to insist that I tell Clint of his child,” Loki answered, grinning to hide the deeper emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Though I did not expect him to receive the news so well... Perhaps you _did_ learn something of the Midgardians during your sojourn there...”

“As I told you, he is an honorable man – as are many of his people,” Thor said seriously. “He will be a good father to your child, and for this I am glad, Brother.”

A muscle in Loki’s cheek twitched as if he wished to deny their relation again, but he held his peace, instead turning back to Clint for one last, chaste kiss. The lovers lingered on it as long as they dared but after a final, yearning taste of each other’s lips and a wordless moment with their foreheads pressed together, Clint patted Loki’s back and escorted him to the threshold of his cell. Once inside, Loki willed himself to stand erect and poised as a guard removed his manacles, while six others surrounded him, spears at the ready, to prevent him from escaping before they retreated and raised the barriers. When the shimmering wall arose with its all-too-familiar hum of power, Loki felt his chest constrict. It cost him a tremendous effort to keep his face blank.

Since there was nothing more to be said, Clint only nodded to him before gathering up his half-empty duffel bag and case. Loki watched as the archer followed Thor and Frigga down the hallway and was gratified when Clint turned around before he was completely lost to sight. The gesture the Human made, with his fingers almost touching his brow, Loki recognized as a Midgardian salute. He waited until the last of the group was beyond his line of vision, then counted their steps until they must have entered the stairwell.

With a heavy sigh, he used his newly released powers to draw the sheer white privacy curtains around the cell while he walked over to the bed. He paused for a moment, sitting on its edge, to place his hands on his stomach and reach out to the child within.

“We’re alone again, Heideral,” he whispered. Feeling the child moving, he lay down on his side and curled around it protectively. “I miss him already as well,” he confided. 


	46. Loki's Room

Clint wondered if he would ever be able to find his way around the Asgardian palace as Frigga led him back up to the royal family’s quarters. The others had left them near the ground floor to return to their usual duties.

“Um... Is there like a map or something of this place?” Clint asked, peering around the labyrinthine corridors as they walked past yet another identical intersection.

“I can arrange for a portable device to guide you,” the Queen kindly told him. “But if you lose your way, you can ask any of the guards for assistance.”

Clint did not bother mentioning that he did not want to feel like a visitor forever. His goal was to get settled in as quickly as possible, acclimating himself to Asgard so he could focus on more important matters. Being able to visit Loki was at the top of his list.

Frigga approached a door and hesitated briefly before opening it and leading him in. “This is Loki’s room, now yours. You are free to do with it as you wish. If you would like different draperies or anything...”

She trailed off when she heard the muffled thump of Clint’s duffel bag hitting the floor.

“Wow,” the Human said, turning around to survey the room. “Wow!”

From the luxurious cream-white carpeting that made him feel like he ought to take off his boots to the velvety dark-green curtains framing the open wall onto the terrace, Clint thought the entire room spoke of opulence. The wooden furniture was fashioned with exquisite craftsmanship and gleamed in the soft light diffused from many ornate fixtures. The room they had entered was obviously designed for entertainment. To the left there was a recessed seating area – piled with comfortable-looking cushions – surrounding a brazier table and set in front of a large fireplace; to the right was a formal dining table and a glass case filled with exotic wine bottles. Beyond that was a doorway leading to what looked like a pool. Through a door on the other side, Clint caught a glimpse of a bed covered in the same rich material as the drapes. And there were bookshelves and paintings on every wall, filling the space tastefully without crowding it.

“I don’t think I’ll need to change anything,” Clint said with a droll grin. “It looks great just the way it is.”

Frigga returned the smile and gestured to the bedroom. “If you leave your things here, the servants will unpack them for you... unless you would like to arrange them yourself?”

Clint laughed. “I don’t have enough stuff to make a fuss over – I can do it myself. But wow... Has Loki read all of these books or are they just for show?”

“I believe he has read most if not all of them,” Frigga answered, watching Clint walk around the room. “All of the paintings are his.”

Clint whirled around in surprise. “You mean he painted these? Himself?”

“Yes. I thought he showed a great talent for capturing the light,” she said fondly, indicating the landscape hanging in front of Clint. “It was one of many hobbies at which he excelled.”

“Wow.” Clint stepped closer to study it. “I had no idea! Did he take lessons as a kid?”

“No, he developed his own style as he practiced. Of course he had any number of masters to study from, since I’ve always been fond of two-dimensional art, and he copied several of my favorite pieces at one time. But mostly he found his own methods and worked out what pleased his eye best.”

“Looks like he knew what he was doing,” Clint remarked, squinting at the details of the trees.

“Yes,” Frigga agreed, pleased that the Human appreciated her son’s accomplishments.

After a moment Clint reminded himself that he was here to apply for a job, not just gawk at the décor, so he stepped into the bedroom to set his bags down. The furnishings there were opulent as well and the bed was enormous. He couldn’t help thinking that it needed to be to accommodate Loki’s lanky height, then very naturally imagined Loki lying there, smiling seductively at him as he so often had. Giving himself another mental shake, Clint set his case on the bed and opened it up.

_“Play time’s over – now it’s time to get down to business!”_

He chose his newest bow, which had been custom-designed to his exacting specifications, and slung it over his shoulder. When he reached for the arrows, however, he hesitated; he had brought the quiver with grenade tips, but he wondered whether he should take the explosives. For that matter, he did not know if he would be allowed to walk around the palace with weapons at all.

“Um... Excuse me... Your Majesty,” he began, stepping back out into the living area to find Frigga studying another of Loki’s paintings. “Is it all right if I carry around my own bow and arrows? I’m assuming the captain of the Herǫr Drengr is gonna want to see me shoot, and I’d feel more comfortable using my own gear... not that I don’t think you guys have better equipment here, but I know what to expect from my own...”

“Of course,” she answered. “Every true warrior refines his weapons to best serve him. You should take whatever will allow you to show your skill to the greatest advantage. There are some occasions, such as large feasts, when you will be asked to lay down your arms unless you are on duty, but otherwise you are free to bear such weapons as you deem necessary.”

“Oh, that’s a relief! But I was also wondering about explosives – these here are small but they pack a pretty big wallop. Uh, that is... one of them could destroy that bed and knock everything else in the room down.”

“Is there any chance of them exploding by accident?”

“No, not really. You’d have to set off a much bigger charge right next to them to set these off if they haven’t been armed, and at that point” – Clint shrugged – “you wouldn’t notice them.”

“Then it should not be of any concern. I trust your judgment, Clint. Both Loki and Thor have spoken very highly of your skills as a warrior; I believe you are capable of handling your own weapons responsibly.”

“Thank you. I should hope so, at my age...” Clint broke off as another thought occurred to him. “May I ask... I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but... how old is Loki?”

Frigga looked amused by the question. “By your reckoning, he is just over nine hundred years old. He is considered a young man by our standards: old enough to make his own decisions, but still... untried... inexperienced.”

“Wow.” Clint tried to think what had happened in Earth’s history that long ago and could not come up with anything significant. “I figured your people must be long-lived, but... I can hardly wrap my mind around it...”

“It is just as hard for _us_ to fathom living so short of a life as you do... How precious each moment must be when you have so little time to live and love and learn!” She pursed her lips thoughtfully before adding, “I realize that every moment you are kept apart from Loki must weigh that much heavier upon your heart... which is why I will continue to ask the King to mitigate his punishment of our son – even if it is only a temporary reprieve while your child is young – so that you may spend as much of your time together as possible.”

“Thank you,” Clint said, his eyes communicating his gratitude more eloquently than his words. “I appreciate any help you can give. And I’m glad you still consider Loki your son... I know he thinks the world of you.”

The Queen’s expression turned poignant at that. “Yes... I believe, in his heart of hearts, Loki still wishes to come home and be our child. But Odin has ever been severe in his dealings with Loki... despite my many cautions that he cannot be ruled that way. He is not like Thor, where a simple rebuke is accepted and then forgotten as a matter of course; every word, every look, must be examined and analyzed in Loki’s sharp-edged mind, and so the greatest of care must be taken in addressing him... But perhaps it is not too late. Perhaps I may convince Odin that Loki has not allowed his entire soul to be darkened with hate, and perhaps I may breathe life into the embers of the happy child I remember. I have hope yet that having his own child will cause Loki to see things anew, from a parent’s perspective... and that he will then better understand his own father as well.”

Clint considered this before replying. “I suppose Odin _has_ to be strict in his punishment of Loki, since to everybody else it’s his son – he doesn’t want to look like he’s playing favorites or letting him off the hook too easily – but by the same token he might also be going a little too far on the harsh side. Loki thinks he _has_ been unfair, especially considering how Thor was punished: getting his powers taken away and being sent to Earth. Right now, if Odin did that to Loki, he’d consider it a favor. In fact, so would I.”

Frigga nodded in understanding. “Yes, I’m sure Loki would far rather accept that form of punishment; however, he was the first to point out that his child must be kept here on Asgard until we know what powers it might possess. He worried, when Thor insisted that he tell you about the child, what might happen to you if the child had powers like his own. Uncontrolled as an infant, the babe might injure you... perhaps even kill you.” The Queen smiled knowingly as she added, “When I heard his concern for you – despite his having attempted to subjugate your people and, in the process, killed so many – I knew that he cared for you in a special way. And that gave me hope. If he could love _one_ Midgardian, perhaps he would realize the grievous wrong he had done to the others and repent of his schemes.”

“He... He did, huh?” Clint stumbled over the words as he tried in vain not to blush. He also failed to keep his face from contorting into a fatuous grin. “Well, that... that’s a start, yeah. But... do you really think the kid will have powers like Loki? I mean, he’s half Human, so even if he does it’s gotta be watered down, right?”

“I do not know... We will have to observe him as he grows.” Frigga regarded Clint for a moment. “Even Midgardians have these powers, you know – we call it seiðr. All races have it within them to tap into the force of Yggdrasil, but some have honed this skill more than others. The Light Elves of Alfeim, where I lived before, have taken special care to nurture it... and I taught Loki as best I know how. Unfortunately, here on Asgard, physical strength and skill of battle are esteemed more than magic, so I may have done him a disservice by teaching him the depths of seiðr... but I feared for his safety, knowing he might never have such strength as Thor and yet having to train with him as well as other, more battle-hardened warriors.”

“I don’t think Loki would ever call it a ‘disservice,’ Ma’am,” Clint told her earnestly. “If he hadn’t had that to fall back on, he might’ve been even worse off. You probably saved his ass–neck, saved his _neck_ , a bunch of times with that.”

“I do believe you are right, Clint.” Frigga smiled and held out her hand. “It is almost time for our noon repast. Please join me.”

“Oh! I guess... I lost track of time. Thank you.” Clint took her hand and hooked it around his arm to escort her, feeling rather awkward but pulling it off like a gentleman nevertheless.

“Of course. I cannot send you to meet the captain of the Herǫr Drengr on an empty stomach, after all,” Frigga said with a light laugh as they exited the room. 


	47. Lunch with the In-Laws

When Frigga led Clint into the dining room, Thor and Sif and the Warriors Three were already assembled around the long table. Their raucous laughter filled the space as Fandral teased Thor about dragging out his time on Earth to court the Lady Jane.

“So you have much to thank Loki and his strange anatomy for,” Fandral was saying as he gestured with one hand and held a goblet in the other. “He gave you the perfect excuse to go back to Midgard to see her! But now tell us: when can we expect the royal wedding? I have to get a new outfit prepared, you know!”

Thor was blushing but his friend’s last question left him looking torn. “I... I cannot say. I asked her if she might come to live on Asgard, but she is doing important work for her people. She feels honor-bound to stay there and see it through...”

“A most noble sentiment,” Frigga chimed in, making the others aware of her presence. They rose in one accord to greet her. “You cannot expect a woman to always accommodate a man’s desires; which is why I negotiated with Commander Fury to consider Clint Barton as being _on loan_ to Asgard – so that one of _our_ warriors may be loaned to Midgard in return.”

There was no mistaking her intent as she looked pointedly at her son with a raised eyebrow. Thor shifted uneasily on his feet.

“Mother, I... I did not know you were so eager to be rid of me...” he began, trying to sound jesting.

“Nonsense! I only wish what is best for you. And if that means you must spend some time seriously wooing the woman you love in her own realm, then so be it. As I have said before, I do hope that Loki will not be the _only_ one who will gift me with grandchildren.”

Before Thor could come up with a response to that, Odin walked in from another door. Clint’s mouth hung open for a moment as he realized that this would be a meal with his virtual in-laws, without the benefit of Loki’s presence as a buffer; and not only that, but coming hard on the heels of his combative speech to Odin.

 _“Oh, this isn’t awkward at all...”_ he thought to himself, trying to remain calm – or at least to appear so.

“I see you have brought our new guest,” Odin remarked to his wife, placing a particular emphasis on that last word as he glanced at Clint with a hard gleam in his eye.

“Yes, of course,” Frigga replied with aplomb. “As the father of Loki’s child, he will take Loki’s place beside me.”

Odin grunted in a sound that could have been interpreted as approval or resignation before sitting down. Taking the seat offered to him by the Queen, Clint thought again, _“No... not awkward at all!”_ He decided to focus on the food being set before them to avoid getting into any problematic conversations with the All-Father. Although Natasha had taught him which piece of silverware to use in fancy dinners, those were according to Earth rules, so he watched what the Queen was doing out of the corner of his eye or (since he was sitting right across from him) how Thor ate his food, hoping he wouldn’t do anything that would be an Asgardian _faux pas_. Thankfully, the Æsir did not seem to be too particular about table manners, as a glance down the table at Volstagg revealed. Clint was just beginning to relax when Fandral, who was sitting next to him, addressed him.

“So, Clint Barton... You have the unenviable distinction of being the father of Loki’s child and, from what we’ve heard, the best archer on Midgard.”

Clint swallowed his bite of bread before answering.

“I don’t know about ‘unenviable’... It’s not every day that a Human gets to have a kid with a demi-god, after all. And I’m not sure I’m _the_ best, although it’s possible... there aren’t too many folks into archery anymore...”

“And a modest man on top of it all!” Fandral bantered jovially. “But I have to confess, I find it strange how taken Loki is with you... He was never known to be free with his heart – in fact I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him having a lover before – but he does seem to be truly smitten with you. Tell me, what is your secret? How did you manage to capture the master trickster himself?”

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Clint replied, his expression serious. “I’m just a regular guy. A ‘Midgardian mortal’ as Loki put it – no special powers or anything. Sure, I can shoot pretty well, but there are other guys with more impressive talents than that. So I guess I just got lucky. I happened to be there when Loki came through the Tesseract, and he decided he could use me for his ‘glorious purpose.’ The rest, as they say, is history.”

“I see how it is,” Fandral said with a grin. “If it’s not for your skills as a _warrior_ , it must be for your skills as a _lover_. OW!”

His exclamation coincided with a sudden movement on Sif’s part. Clint was certain that Fandral had been the recipient of a well-aimed kick under the table.

“Mind your mouth!” Sif murmured in a deadly undertone.

“What?” Fandral protested. “I’m just curious! And I wasn’t about to ask him for any _details_... although I wouldn’t mind knowing...”

Clint finally managed a short chuckle. “I don’t have any secrets, sorry. I just... fell for him... pretty hard, to tell you the truth, although I didn’t realize it until after he’d been sent back here. It took me a while to sort through the jumble he’d left of my brain, but when I did, I... well, I felt bad that we’d parted on those terms. So I’m glad to get another chance with him... and that he felt the same way, too.”

Before Fandral could formulate a reply, Sif cleared her throat and pointedly changed the subject.

“Clint Barton, as a warrior, you must have seen many battles on Midgard. We know from observing your realm that there are always wars being fought. Of what acts of valor can you boast? What songs are sung of your great deeds?”

Clint laughed outright at that. “No songs – that’s not the sort of thing we do anymore, and in any case I’m probably not what you’d consider a ‘warrior’ at all. No, what I do for S.H.I.E.L.D. is more... specific.”

He could feel all eyes on him, and one in particular from the head of the table, but he realized that it was no use stopping now.

“I’m an assassin more than anything else. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s goal is to protect the Earth – from ourselves, in most cases – and we often deal with regimes that are not only causing problems for neighboring countries but also mistreating their own people. Sure, you could get a coalition of their neighbors to start an all-out war, but then what happens afterwards? That whole region could be left more unstable than before. Plus there would be a lot of collateral damage: innocent civilians killed or displaced, infrastructure destroyed, and people’s livelihoods gone. So instead, S.H.I.E.L.D. sends in a team with very specific skill sets... if everything works according to the plan, we’re in and out within forty-eight hours, and with surgical precision the person or persons causing all of the problems would be... eliminated.”

From their expressions, Clint knew they understood exactly what such a plan would entail. He spread his hands in a gesture of completion.

“The way we do it, there’s no fuss, no muss, and the ordinary people go on with their lives as though nothing happened. Sometimes there’s an accident; sometimes there’s a very deadly mutation of the flu; and sometimes, if there’s a rival leader who’s also a criminal, there’s a murder with incriminating evidence so he gets arrested as well – in essence killing two birds with one stone. But nobody ever hears about _us_. If we do our jobs right, we’re invisible; we don’t even exist.”

“So... your Shield... controls which rulers live or die?” Sif asked incredulously. Clint shook his head.

“Nah, not really. We just try to keep the crazy ones from getting out of hand, at least as much as possible. I believe we’ve managed to make our world a safer place, though. I wouldn’t have worked for them as long as I have if I didn’t think we were making a difference.”

“How long have you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Thor asked.

“Oh, man... Coulson recruited me when I was still green... It’s been over 15 years already.”

“What is the bravest thing you’ve done? And come now, don’t be modest!” Fandral insisted.

Clint thought for a moment before answering.

“I’m not sure it’s the bravest, but it was certainly the _best_ thing I’ve ever done,” he finally began. “S.H.I.E.L.D. got intel that a militant faction in Chechnya had gotten their hands on a nuclear warhead – an old Soviet one that wouldn’t have traveled far but could still do a lot of damage wherever it landed. Tasha and I (that’s my partner) took out the rebel guards and managed to load the missile back onto the truck to transport it, but as I was driving it along this narrow road on the mountainside, a truck full of the rest of the rebels – the ones that had gone to a nearby town to get supplies – came back, heading straight at us. Of course they recognized our truck, since they’d stolen it themselves, and Tasha was in the back trying to defuse the damn bomb, so I had to take them out before they shot me, all while driving the truck and keeping it from going over the cliff.”

Cliff paused for a breath before continuing. His audience was rapt with attention, envisioning the scene as he described it with his words and hands.

“One arrow, straight through the driver’s eye, and their truck veered off and tumbled into the ravine. No survivors, of course, but knowing that they were willing to use a bomb that could kill tens of thousands, maybe _hundreds_ of thousands, I can’t say that I lost any sleep over it. In fact I slept like a baby after that mission.”

A collective sigh of satisfaction went up around the table.

“It was well for your realm that the Norns chose you to be there,” Thor soberly commented. “Another man might have missed or not been swift enough.”

Clint nodded. “Of course it was my own ass – _neck_ , I mean, excuse me – on the line, as well as my partner’s, so that was a pretty good motivation to get the job done. But yeah... if our truck had gone down instead, the old warhead might have detonated, leaving a crater in the ravine and a hundred-mile radius of radiation. So I’m proud that I was able to pull it off.”

“Your partner,” Sif asked, intensely curious, “is a woman?”

“Yeah. And the most dangerous person I know,” Clint replied with a fond grin. “I learned right away not to get her mad at me! You’d probably like her – she’s got a real warrior spirit. Her code name is the Black Widow, and she lives up to it.”

Since there were no black widow spiders on Asgard, Clint needed to explain the deadly arachnid to them, but as he did so he was much more relaxed, perhaps the most at ease he had been since arriving in this new realm. For in the process of telling his story, he had realized that the Asgardian warriors were not so different from Midgardian soldiers – or, for that matter, soldiers anywhere – who had stared death in the face and then made light of their experiences by telling jokes and tall tales about them. They were, in essence, already brothers in arms.

Odin wordlessly observed their growing camaraderie as he finished his meal. Clint Barton was a mere mortal – weak, limited, and insignificant by Asgardian standards – and yet he had challenged Odin’s ruling on Loki’s punishment with compelling arguments, and now he was being quickly accepted by some of the hardiest warriors Asgard could boast.

 _“He must be watched,”_ the All-Father resolved. 


	48. Loki's Musings

After forcing himself to eat everything on his lunch tray, Loki continued to mull over what Odin had told him earlier. The growing presence of his own child prompted him to think about his birth mother – the female Frost Giant who had hidden her Midgardian heritage in order to become Laufey’s Queen – and wonder whether she had been exiled or executed for deceiving the Jötun King. He was tempted to ask Odin if he had learned anything more of her, but with a derisive snort Loki shot down his own idea.

 _“Of course Odin would not have thought to ask about her,”_ Loki thought bitterly. _“He never cared about how_ I _felt, even though he claimed to be my father; I was nothing more than one of his many spoils of war. Why, then, would he care about a Jötun female of ignoble ancestry?”_

Loki lay down on his bed and curled up again, grateful for the curtains that shielded him now from prying eyes. Learning that he had Midgardian blood in him – no matter how slight in proportion to the Jötun – was a shock from which he had not yet fully recovered.

_“Does it mean I will not live as long as most Frost Giants? For that matter, how long do the Jötnar live, anyway? I had always assumed they lived as long as the Æsir, and as a child I grew at a similar rate as Thor, but I’ve never read anything definitive about it. Laufey lived for at least three millennia, though... Strange to think he was my father. I suppose that makes me guilty of patricide... but he tried to kill me first, so we’re actually even.”_

Loki continued to rub his protruding stomach, wondering how his biology would affect his offspring. He wished with all his heart for long life and happiness for his child; however, when he thought of how soon Clint’s Human life would end in comparison to that of his own or, more precisely, that of the Æsir, Loki hoped that the one-sixteenth of Midgardian heritage he possessed would serve to cut his life short, for he could not bear to contemplate living without his lover.

 _“I will stay alive as long as my child needs me,”_ he decided, _“but if he is doing well enough on his own, I will ask to be sent to Valhalla – or wherever Human souls go after death – to join Clint there. Thor may be King by then, in which case he would be more likely to grant my plea for leniency...”_

Thor had never loved him as a lover, Loki was now certain, but as a boisterous young Prince he must have felt some fondness for the one he believed to be his brother. Thor had preferred the company of his own friends as he had grown older, of course, but he had allowed Loki to tag along on their adventures – perhaps out of a sense of duty, since Frigga would have scolded Thor and reminded him of his responsibility as the elder brother, but Loki knew the thunder god had some of Frigga’s kindness in him as well.

 _“He_ is _her son, after all,”_ Loki thought morosely. _“She carried him in her body, like this, for months... felt his every move as he grew... no doubt spoke to him every day, longing for the time when she could hold him in her arms...”_

The pain that seized his chest was sharp and deep. He had believed himself to be as much Frigga’s son as Thor until that illusion had been ripped from him by Odin in the worst moment of his life. The Asgardian Queen had never borne him, had never nurtured him as her own flesh and blood, but had deceived him into believing that beautiful and unattainable lie. In this as in so many other things, Thor had preeminence over him; Thor was Frigga’s true son, entitled by blood to inherit her many good qualities, while Loki had no hope of receiving any of her traits which he did not strive to emulate. And right now, knowing that he had no natural claim to any of them, he did not have the will or the energy to even try.

It seemed so patently _unfair_. As a boy, Loki had always felt like he had to work twice as hard as Thor to garner Odin’s attention and approval, and then it was hardly equal to the lavish praises heaped upon the older Prince for every little achievement. Thus there were many occasions when Loki did not bother to gain the All-Father’s approval – simply his attention was enough – and got into mischief, craving even the negative attention it earned him. The more creative, clever, and intricate the mischief the better, for then the younger Prince had a chance of seeing Odin’s eyes twinkle in merriment even as the King meted out his punishment. Regardless of how high the cost, if it gained him a moment of contemplation (albeit grudging and disapproving) from the man he thought was his father, Loki had considered the effort well worthwhile.

He ached now at the memory of his own pathetic attempts to impress the All-Father. He could see, in hindsight, that they had been acts of desperation. He wished he could inform his younger self that it was all useless – that he would never attain the same status as Thor in Odin’s heart, not being his true son. And he wished more than ever that he could undo his greatest scheme which had, ultimately, led him to be locked in this cell. For Loki was not so deluded as to believe he had done any of it – delaying Thor’s coronation, tricking Laufey into a trap, and nearly destroying Jötunheim – for Odin. No, his erstwhile father had been right to refute that claim: Loki had done it for himself. He had done it to receive the praise and glory he had so often seen showered upon Thor. He had done it to show that he could be just as courageous as his brother and even more cunning. He had done it to prove that he could be as mighty a conqueror and ruler as Odin himself, or even his ancestors.

He had done it because he had not known then that nothing would ever be enough. And when Odin had quietly, correctly, and devastatingly told him “No” as he dangled over the Void – that he had not done any of it for Odin’s sake, but rather for his own – Loki had felt the weight of that truth. Odin had seen through him, seen through his lies to his true motives, until Loki could not argue against him anymore. But what had caused him to release his hold on life had been the realization that, despite knowing how desperate Loki had been for his love and approval, Odin had not done anything to help him – that the All-Father _could not_ love Loki as he loved Thor, for the simple reason that he was not his son by blood. And by withholding that very knowledge, Odin had kept Loki on his maddening course of self-destruction.

 _“Had I only known what I was... I would have chosen another path. I would have understood the futility of attempting to equal Thor. I would not have wasted my time and energy... I would not have wasted my entire_ life _.”_ Loki sighed and fought against his rising emotions. _“If I had known from the time I was a child that I was not his son, I would have at least understood why I was treated so differently... Even if it had been common knowledge and the Æsir had harassed or shunned me for being a Frost Giant, that still would have been better than not knowing – expecting to be treated like a true Prince of Asgard, only to be so disappointed! Even if he had not adopted me but... kept me as a Jötun war trophy and slave, to work in the palace as a drudge... that, still, would have been preferable to all the years I spent trying to earn something I could never hope to achieve. Almost_ any _other situation would have been better than being kept in the dark about my own parentage – about what I really_ am _.”_

Agitated, Loki arose from the bed and began pacing the room.

 _“Why didn’t they tell me truth? Did they hope to take the monster and_ tame _it? To make me an example of what my race could ‘aspire’ to? To become more like the_ Æsir _?”_

He knocked a chair over as he stalked past it.

_“And then what? Put me on the throne of Jötunheim to teach the other monsters how to behave in a civilized manner? So that they could all be tamed to submit to Asgard’s rule?”_

He backhanded a vase, taking vicious pleasure in the sound it made as it shattered against the wall.

 _“Of course, that’s only if Odin was speaking the truth about making me King of Jötunheim – and I should know better than anyone else: never trust a liar! He lied to me for all those years that I was his son; why should I believe him now? And even if that_ had _been his intention, he no doubt would have expected me to grovel at his feet for approval, always hoping to rival Thor as a ruler. Faugh! I am above such puerile folly now. I need no sanction from Odin to rule – it is my birthright! I would have proven, on Jötunheim as on Midgard, that I am a King, the son of a King, to be feared and revered as the greatest of kings! I would have wrested the authority and usurped the crown if need be... after all, what have I ever gotten that I did not fight for? Nobody ever gave me anything – even when Mother gave me the rule of Asgard, it was only because her precious, only son was exiled. No, I must take for myself what I want, as I have always had to do. Why should Odin fault me for plotting my ascension to the throne? Is that not what_ true _rulers do? Not simply_ inherit _a throne as Thor will, without striving for it and_ earning _it.”_

A surge of anger coursed through Loki’s veins as he halted in the middle of the room, his face contorted in a sneer, his expression hard, and his eyes glittering with dangerous fury.

 _“They never believed me to be capable of greatness, but I have proven them all wrong! And I will_ again _if only I could seize the opportunity... find some chance to escape this_ insult _to my noble purpose! I will show them what the son of Laufey is capable of! They clamor for Thor as their hero, but I shall crush their foolish champion and teach them what_ true _power looks like!”_

In his building frenzy, Loki cast his eyes about for something to destroy. His powers had been restrained by the manacles for too long and he needed to release them, along with his wrath, on some object to prove that his magic was still as potent as ever, ready to do his bidding and wreak havoc upon anything unfortunate enough to spark his ire.

And then he saw the StarkTunes 3000 unit sitting on the bedside table, where Frigga had placed it earlier. The selfless gift from his lover. Loki slowly stepped toward it, his fury dissipating the nearer he approached, until he had almost forgotten his former train of thought by the time he stretched out his hand to touch the machine.

Clint loved him. This device, along with the shirt the archer had peeled off his back, was tangible proof of that. While everyone else (in Loki’s mind) had ever only regarded him as second best to Thor, Clint had made him his first priority. The Human had left his entire world – everything and everybody he held dear – just to be close to him... and their child. Loki was first in his heart.

Loki knelt before the small device on the nightstand and turned it on. A blast of noise startled him as well as the guards in the corridors before he fumbled to reduce the volume. When it was down to a manageable decibel level, he saw that the small viewscreen spelled out the title of the song and the musician as well as the lyrics. The current one was entitled “Whole Lotta Love - Mukul & MetroGnome Remix” by Led Zeppelin and pulsed with an energy that recalled Loki’s earlier mood. However, when he read the lyrics as they were indicated by the bouncing ball, he realized that it was actually a love song of sorts – though not even subtle in its sexual innuendo – and he also noted that the singer was referring to his lover as “Baby,” just like Clint preferred to call him. So, his curiosity piqued, he lay back down on the bed and prepared to familiarize himself with Midgardian music. 


	49. Clint's Test

To Clint’s surprise, Frigga insisted on introducing him personally to the captain of the Herǫr Drengr, Gløggrsyn, who reminded Clint of an old drill sergeant from when he had undergone a crash course version of boot camp to join S.H.I.E.L.D. The crusty warrior pierced the Human with a skeptical eye but was civil enough (perhaps due to the Queen’s presence) in explaining the duties and responsibilities expected of every member of Asgard’s army. None of the regulations were surprising to Clint, however; neither was the fact that Thor and his friends had tagged along to be spectators of his interview.

 _“This whole thing is beginning to feel like a circus,”_ he thought wryly to himself. _“Well, at least I’m used to that!”_

The Captain led their party into the special training facility used by the Herǫr Drengr, a vast enclosed space that would make any football stadium on Earth envious. The entire area was set up with holographic projectors which could simulate a mountain forest, a barren wasteland strewn with debris and ripped by howling dust devils, or a bustling city complete with pedestrians. Gløggrsyn explained that the first test was to shoot the animals that would appear throughout the forest course; the second was to shoot various enemies in the wasteland, with higher scores given for more lethal shots; and the third was to shoot only enemies in the city environment without harming any civilians.

“So it’s a real-life simulation,” Clint remarked with an approving nod. “That’s the best way to test someone for something like this. I’m just impressed that you can do it all indoors here. Your wind-generating technology alone would blow Earth scientists away!”

Volstagg and Fandral guffawed at the joke but Gløggrsyn remained impassive as he set up the tests. The Queen and the rest of the observers would stay in a separate room protected from the wind and any stray arrows, able to see the action through a window.

“Before starting the test, we will do a simple trial,” Gløggrsyn told Clint. “Red discs will be shot out at random; if you cannot hit a good percentage of them, there will be no need to perform the actual tests.”

“Fair enough,” Clint agreed, making sure his skeletal glove was fitted properly. “I have fifty arrows with me. Will that be enough?”

“There will be between thirty-six and forty targets,” Gløggrsyn said curtly. “If you run out, you may use your spent arrows... if you can find them.”

Clint grinned with confidence; this was one area in which he knew exactly what he was capable of. “All right then – let’s get started!”

The red discs were shot out of concealed traps, much like rifle shooting competitions on Earth. Clint held the record for all of the categories (in the disciplines of sporting, trap, and skeet shooting) in which he had been tested by S.H.I.E.L.D. with bow and arrows; only Natasha had tied him in a few categories with conventional firearms. When the red discs started flying, Clint calmly took them down, even as they were spit out faster and faster. He could hear the machines gearing up to release them so he was almost letting loose his arrows before the discs had left their traps. Towards the end he was notching two or three arrows at once and shooting them split seconds apart.

“That was fun!” he called out when the machines stopped whirring. “How many were there?”

“Forty,” Gløggrsyn answered over the sound system.

“Well, that’s perfect – I have ten arrows left,” Clint replied with a smile, then began gathering the arrows scattered in a wide circle around him. The fragments of the discs crumbled to powder beneath his feet.

“What do you think?” Frigga asked Gløggrsyn with the microphone turned off.

“Not bad for a Midgardian,” was his grudging answer. “But he must pass the other tests as well.”

In the forest hunting simulation, the targets were projections rather than actual discs, but the test equipment added real-life sounds – the wind rustling in the leaves, the animals’ soft footfalls, even Clint’s feet crunching the projected twigs on the ground – making it feel like he was in an actual forest hunting actual, living animals. After shooting a few rabbits and smaller game, Clint realized that the projected trees felt solid, so he attempted to climb one and found, to his astonishment, that it was possible. From his new vantage point he took down a stag and two bears in quick succession, then found a taller tree to give him an even wider view. What he saw from that perch made him swear like a sailor, forgetting the presence of the Queen and Sif.

“The fuck is _that?_ ” he asked of nobody in particular. “Fucking _hell!_ ” he added before letting fly two arrows aimed at the creature’s beady, glowering eyes.

One arrow was deflected by an antler while the other became embedded in a leathery cheek. The creature then charged Clint’s tree, its head down in preparation to batter it like a ram.

“Bloody motherfucker!” Clint cried after the first hit. The tree shook precariously, warning that it would not withstand much more. Clint leapt off the moment of the second hit to land directly on the creature’s scaly back, from where he shot point-blank into its head. The arrow pierced through the cranium with a sickening _crack_ but the creature continued to stagger back from its impact with the tree. Clint jumped off to the side and sank two more arrows into its chest, hoping its heart would be in the same general area as most other animals. With a final twitch and a shudder, the beast lay still. It and the projected forest vanished as the test ended.

“Well done!” Thor cried from the observation room, his voice booming in the now-empty testing area. “You took down a bilgesnipe single-handedly! No other Midgardian can boast of such a feat.”

“Was _that_ what that was?” Clint responded, somewhat out of breath. “I’ve never seen anything so... _ugly!_ ”

“They are revolting... and dangerous,” Thor agreed. “Had you not been high in the tree, it would have trampled you and everything else in its path.”

“And I’m guessing if the trees are real enough to climb,” Clint said, picking up the arrow which had pierced the creature’s skull and noting that the tip had been blunted, “getting trampled by that thing would have hurt just as much as the real deal?”

“We have had some injuries during testing,” Gløggrsyn answered, “but have no fear: our healers are highly skilled. We have yet to suffer a fatality.”

“Oh, that makes me feel _so_ much better,” Clint mumbled while gathering his spent arrows.

The second test, although Clint did not know it, started with a simulation of Svartalfheim during a storm. The dry, howling winds blew sand into his face and obscured any sounds. Not having the benefit of goggles, Clint squinted against the wind and headed for higher ground. He took out several targets (projections of Dark Elves) from behind a rocky crag, then had to elude another group by burrowing into the gravelly sand for cover, shooting two of them blind before emerging to confront the other three in hand-to-hand combat. He used the blades on the ends of his bow to great effect, nearly decapitating one of the Dark Elves, and threw his dagger at another, hitting him dead in the eye. The last one he stabbed with an arrow, pulling it out and notching it in time to shoot an outlier who had just come over the crest of the hill. There were two more behind that one, which he managed to skewer with one arrow. Though the test was grueling, he was performing at the top of his game.

Then the winds grew colder and the sand turned to snow. Clint saw a looming shape appear ahead of him – the ruined buttress of a larger structure – and scrambled to climb it to gain a better vantage. His ascent was made difficult by the bitter cold and the ice forming in its nooks and crannies. He crouched low behind a broken section of stonework and spotted some figures moving below. It was difficult to make out their forms in the driving snow, but as he prepared to shoot them he realized that they were enormous. In fact he was aiming at scale-model projections of Frost Giants.

The first three he picked off when their fellows were not looking, but the fourth fell with a shout of pain that drew the attention of the remaining Jötnar. They began running towards him with a battle cry, two of them hurtling their weight against his already broken-down foothold while the other three swarmed up an adjoining buttress from where they could throw their icy axes at him. He started using his explosives, deflecting their weapons to rain down upon the other two in a shower of molten metal and ash, then shot the leader in the eye and sent him tumbling to the ground as well. One of the blue-skinned giants jumped across to Clint’s structure, heedless of the shudders that shook it as his fellows tried to bring it down. Clint stared for one instant into the Jötun’s blood-red eyes before shooting him in the middle of his forehead. The projected creature fell thirty feet to the ground.

The two below were beginning to succeed in loosening the buttress from its roots. Clint startled all who were watching by leaping over to the other one and slicing the throat of the Frost Giant there, then picking off the two below with an arrow each. The projections began to dissolve, forcing the archer to slide hastily down the soon-to-be-nonexistent buttress before it disappeared altogether.

“Those last ones,” Clint demanded, turning to the observation room as soon as its window reappeared, “were those Frost Giants? Of Jötunheim?”

“Yes,” Frigga answered, comprehending his thoughts.

“So that’s what Loki would look like?”

“Yes.”

“And my kid... he might look like that too?”

“It is possible.”

“Huh.” Clint gritted his teeth, absorbing this information. “And they’re used as examples of enemies in training exercises... as a matter of course.”

“They pose one of the greatest threats to our realm,” Frigga quietly explained. “They are a war-like race, often raiding other realms. The Einherjar must train to fight them... to protect _all_ the realms from their fierce attacks.”

“Hm... well... they’re not nearly as ugly as Loki made them out to be,” he muttered as he turned to pick up his arrows again.

Clint did not expect his remark to be heard, but the Asgardian sound system was sensitive. A hush fell over the spectators as the Warriors Three and Sif realized what it truly meant for Loki to be a Jötun. Thor pondered anew the ramifications for the child who would be born to his brother (for he still could not think of Loki as anything else) and for the Human who would be its father. Frigga, however, had already considered such things; what took her aback was Clint’s final comment which made her realize that Loki – as a result of her and Odin’s deception – had grown up despising his own race. Which, she knew, must have translated into a deeply ingrained self-loathing.

“Oh, Loki...” she whispered, aching to think of his helpless self-hatred. “Oh, my poor boy!”

Clint had only enough time to gather what was left of his arrows before the third and final test began. He found himself in a busy Asgardian market; the Dark Elves were fairly easy to spot but hard to target with so many civilians swarming through the streets. Clint hoisted himself up the side of a building, took aim, and shot down the escaping enemies. The Frost Giants who showed up later were easier to see and target because of their size, but they were also harder to kill with one shot. Clint tried not to think while he aimed for their red eyes and took them down.

Then a bilgesnipe was set loose on the projected cityscape. Clint jumped down to the street, directly into the beast’s path, and aimed for the nostrils this time, instinctively sensing that the soft tissue of the nose would allow his arrows to plunge deeper than the creature’s leathery, scale-covered skin. He was right. Both of his arrows penetrated into the brain, killing the bilgesnipe immediately, but the brute continued to move forward from sheer momentum. Clint had to dive out of its way before the massive creature came to a stumbling halt, collapsing where the Human had been standing mere moments before.

He picked himself up off the ground as the projected beast and surroundings dissolved again, out of breath and drenched in sweat but feeling satisfied with his performance.

“Your second bilgesnipe!” Thor’s voice thundered through the cavernous space. “We will set the bards to writing ballads of your deeds today!”

“Well, that’s a first,” Clint dryly quipped, a grin spreading across his face.

The group gathered around to congratulate the Human, but Gløggrsyn beat them all to clasp Clint’s arm in a hearty grip.

“The Herǫr Drengr will be strengthened by your bow,” he intoned – the traditional words of welcome to the elite archery division – with genuine respect shining in his eyes.

“Thank you. I hope so,” Clint humbly responded before being subjected to the others’ more effusive outbursts of admiration. 


	50. Clint & Loki: The First Time

Loki turned off the music after a while, having grown tired of the incessant barrage of sound and words. He had even skipped past several songs that he considered too obnoxious for his taste, although he had found a few he actually liked. Some of them he recalled hearing while on Midgard, and they made him strangely nostalgic for the backward little planet. Of course it was not so much for the planet itself but for the time he had spent there with Clint; in a roundabout way, the music reminded him of the archer, who had introduced him to many aspects of the realm that Loki would have struggled to comprehend on his own.

 _Loki pressed the knobs on the wall above the bathtub labeled “H” and “C” – presumably for hot and cold, respectively – and waited in vain for the water to flow. He was exhausted from his exertions of the day, not to mention his long captivity by Thanos and his subsequent transportation across countless light-years via the Tesseract. All Loki wanted to do was sleep, but the temptation to be clean –_ really _clean, with soap and water, not just by seiðr – had lured him to strip out of his clothes and stand naked in the humble Midgardian bathroom. The fact that the plumbing did not respond to his touch frustrated him; he seriously considered blasting the entire structure to smithereens._

_The old farmhouse was spared such a fate by Clint knocking on the bathroom door just then._

_“Sir?” he asked._

_“What is it?” Loki snapped._

_“Perimeter’s secure, Sir. Is there anything else I can do?”_

_Loki drew in a deep breath before answering. “Yes. Come in here and make this damn thing work!”_

_The door was promptly opened but Clint paused on the threshold. He had not expected to see Loki wearing nothing but a scowl. The Human pulled himself together and leaned past his new commander to turn on the faucets, then tested the temperature of the water with one finger before nodding._

_“Is that too hot, Sir?”_

_Loki followed suit and quickly withdrew his hand. “Yes, that’s scalding!”_

_The demigod observed how Clint had rotated the knobs rather than pressing them and deepened his scowl. Midgardian plumbing was even more primitive than he had expected._

_“How is it now?” Clint asked._

_“Better.”_

_Loki stepped over the side of the antique claw-footed tub to stand in the stream of steaming water. He could not suppress a sigh of pleasure as the liquid coursed down his body._

_“Sir? Um...”_

_Loki arched an eyebrow as he glanced over at Clint, his expression clearly stating his wonderment that the Human was still there._

_“Would you like me to wash you?”_

_Now the surprise on Loki’s face was genuine. Before he could form a reply, Clint elaborated._

_“I’m guessing you had servants who did stuff like this for you, back where you came from, and... forgive me for saying so, but you look like you’re dead on your feet. If you’d like, I can give you a quick once-over so you can get to sleep that much quicker.”_

_Loki’s lips had parted when his jaw had dropped, and it took him a moment to snap them shut. His mind was tired, too, taking longer to respond._

_“That would be... acceptable,” he finally answered._

_Clint grabbed a washcloth and lathered it up with a bar of soap, saying, “You might want to brace yourself against the wall. I’ll try to be gentle, but I wouldn’t want you to slip and lose your balance.”_

_Loki did as suggested and was soon rewarded by having the lathered cloth traveling over his shoulders and back in swift, efficient strokes. He had not been washed by another since a memorable day on which he and Thor had been covered by the blood of the elgroch they had hunted down – Loki’s knife had hit its jugular vein, sending blood spewing directly back at them. The brothers had taken turns washing each other in the bath to make sure none of the foul-smelling clots had lingered, knowing they would incur their mother’s wrath if they arrived at the dinner table in anything less than an impeccable state. Thor had wanted to fuck him then and there but Loki had staunchly refused to be late to dinner. Had he known how brief their affair would be, he might have chosen differently._

_Loki forced himself to focus on the present. He wondered if it were only his imagination that Clint’s hand had lingered more than necessary between his buttocks. The archer moved swiftly down Loki’s long legs._

_“Soles?”_

_Loki lifted first one foot then the other to allow his servant to wash them._

_“If you’ll turn around and rinse your backside...” Clint began. Loki turned around immediately, unabashed by his nakedness. He had been put on display so often in Thanos’ court that merely being unclothed no longer bothered him. It did, however, trigger a flush to spread up Clint’s neck and over his face, all the way to the tips of his ears. Loki could tell that the Human was trying hard not to stare at his cock. Even flaccid, it was extremely long and well-shaped – an endowment of which Loki was understandably proud. Clint washed his master’s arms from the shoulders to the wrists, then started working his way down Loki’s chest, the crimson blush in his face growing deeper the closer he moved to the demigod’s privates._

_Finally there was no avoiding the situation. “May I?” Clint asked, his gaze flickering to meet Loki’s for only a moment before returning to a vague spot around his feet._

_“Of course. You must always finish what you start,” Loki purred, amused to see the Human discomfited. He placed one foot on the ledge of the bathtub to give Clint better access. While the archer was occupied with re-lathering the washcloth, Loki leaned over to confirm what he had suspected: there was a tell-tale bulge in the front of Clint’s trousers._

_Clint washed Loki’s lengthy cock with clinical precision before moving back to the balls, even reaching to scrub the area behind them. The gentle massaging motions he made caused Loki’s cock to begin hardening, also, but the Human tried to ignore it – despite it being right in his face – although he did swallow a few times. Having washed almost every square inch of Loki’s skin, only one thing remained to be done._

_“If you could squat and get your hair wet,” Clint said with a gesture towards the showerhead, which was affixed at Loki’s shoulder level, “it’ll be easier to shampoo. I’m sorry this thing isn’t detachable. Next place we stay, I’ll make sure the accommodations are better.”_

_Loki complied, reveling in the sensation of warm water flowing through his hair. When it was sufficiently doused, he turned his back to Clint again and waited for the archer’s skilled hands. He was not disappointed. Clint had stepped up onto the bathtub ledge to better reach the Loki’s head, balanced on his bare feet, and massaged his scalp gently with the pads of his fingers, working in the shampoo from the roots to the tips of Loki’s long hair. After a quick rinse, he repeated the process. Loki had not felt so well cared for and pampered in literal ages._

_Ducking under the shower for a final rinse, Loki felt a smile forming on his lips. Things were going well, exactly according to his plan, and his selection of this particular Human had been a resounding success. He turned off the water (now that he knew how) and stepped out of the tub to where Clint was awaiting him with an unfurled towel. Once dry, he was helped into a terry-cloth robe the farmer’s wife had provided._

_Clint had suggested making the couple “see the light” with Loki’s “glow-stick spear” – sound tactical advice that had already proven useful. After being subdued, the homeowners had eagerly offered Loki their bedroom, even changing the sheets for him, and the wife had heated a batch of cookies she had frozen for her grandchildren so that the unexpected visitors could have some quick nutrition. Erik had insisted on crashing on the couch to allow the couple to stay in the guest bedroom, which had the only other bed large enough for two. Clint was slated to sleep in their son’s former room in the attic._

_Regarding the large bed prepared for him, Loki was struck with an idea. He turned to study Clint, who was busily checking that the windows were locked and secured, placing breakable Hummel figurines in front of them as a low-tech alarm system._

_“Clint Barton,” Loki called after sitting down on the bed._

_“Sir?” Clint responded, pausing his activity to turn to him. His ears were still flushed although his face had returned to a more normal color._

_“Come here,” Loki said and pointed at the foot of the bed. Languidly, he lay back against the pillows and parted his legs just enough for the hem of the robe to open up, revealing a hint of what lay within. When Clint was standing at the assigned spot, Loki considered him for a moment._

_“Do you wish to fuck me?”_

_The flush returned in full force, but this time Clint did not avert his eyes._

_“Yes... Sir.”_

_“Hm.” Loki smiled, pleased and amused. “I thought as much... You may yet have opportunity for that. For now, I want to know what you think of my..._ spear _.”_

_There was no mistaking his meaning as he opened up the front of the robe, exposing his half-erect cock._

_“It’s... beautiful, Sir.” Clint swallowed again. “I would love to suck it.”_

_“You may.”_

_Loki grinned with satisfaction as the archer hastened to comply. The god of mischief knew that, in spite of his exhaustion, sleep would not come easily in this strange new environment. A good sexual climax or two would help his brain relax and shut down enough to let him sleep well through the night – a luxury he had long been denied. He also knew that the spear Thanos had given him, while it_ could _cause another being to believe he was madly in love with the wielder, was not the reason for Clint’s obvious sexual attraction towards him. Loki had specifically changed only the archer’s loyalty; the fact that Clint saw Loki as an object of lust was a product of his own natural urges. The attraction was real – and, Loki admitted to himself, mutual. Clint’s competence and surprising intelligence (for a Midgardian) was impressive, and his muscular physique made the demigod want to see the man in all of his naked splendor._

 _Now, as he watched Clint sucking and fondling his manhood with utmost care, Loki realized that he wanted more: he wanted to be fucked_ hard _into the mattress by this talented Human lover. Clint was touching him in ways he had never been touched before – not even by Thor – as though Loki’s pleasure alone was what mattered to him. Although Loki had enslaved the man’s mind, he had done nothing to influence Clint’s love-making style, which was sensitive and considerate while still being assertive. Clint’s every move declared that he was a man who knew what he was doing and what he wanted, but he was willing to set aside his own needs long enough to focus on his lover’s._

 _Loki only had enough energy to decide,_ “Later... I must have him fuck me... It shall be glorious!” _before the stimulation of Clint’s hands, lips, and tongue became too much to bear. With a few breathless cries, Loki spewed his seed into his servant’s face, and the Human lapped it up hungrily before licking his cock clean._

Stifling a groan, Loki pulled on his cock in faster strokes, trying to recapture the ecstasy of that first time Clint had made him come. Moments like these made him more grateful than ever for Frigga’s thoughtfulness in providing drapes for his cell; he did not want to imagine what the Nidavellian rapist Dwarf would do if he could see Loki pleasuring himself like this. He tried instead to imagine Clint’s strong, stubby fingers touching his privates, kneading in all the right places, and Clint’s lips swallowing his cock while the Human’s distinctive eyes sparkled with salacious glee. Loki gritted his teeth to contain his grunts as he came, then sank back into his comfortable (if lonely) bed. Waiting for his breathing to grow calm, Loki wondered if he would ever experience sex with Clint again. He doubted it, but knowing that Clint still wanted to fuck him – contrary to Loki’s former belief that the archer hated him – helped ease his pain somewhat. 


	51. Clint Meets His New Team

Gløggrsyn led Clint to the Herǫr Drengr barracks for a much-needed shower after his workout. Since the Human was now officially accepted into the unit, the others left him in the Captain’s care and returned to their usual duties – Queen Frigga to have a word with Odin at his earliest convenience, for she was more determined than ever to persuade him to treat Loki with lenience.

Thor had not been joking about having ballads written of Clint’s exploits, either, and he sought out the court musicians to commission some songs in the Asgardian tradition of praising their warriors. While the god of thunder was not at all jealous of the Human’s prowess, being the acknowledged mightiest hero of the realm himself, it cost him a great effort to avoid dwelling on how Loki must admire Clint’s skills. Realizing that Clint had supplanted his own position in his brother’s heart (which Thor had occupied not so long ago in proportion to their lifespan) bothered him more than he cared to admit, but Thor was generous enough to follow through on his promise to laud the Human’s talents.

Of course that was the furthest thing from Clint’s mind as he stepped out of the shower, wearing only a towel, to find a tailor waiting to adjust his new uniform. Whereas the regular Einherjar fighters were outfitted in seamless armor from head to toe, the Herǫr Drengr had lighter protective gear made from a more flexible material to give their shoulders free range of motion; since they were not as likely to engage the enemy in hand-to-hand combat, there was less priority placed on the heavy plated armor. However, in the event of a serious assault, they would have to move quickly into position behind the lancers, abandoning their posts high above, so mobility was a greater concern. Clint was glad to find that the lightweight uniform would not obstruct his movements in any way as he jumped, bended, and stretched to test its fit.

“Good, good,” Gløggrsyn said, nodding his approval. His gaze lingered on Clint’s exposed forearms as though assessing their capability in battle. “I will have you practice with our standard-issue bow later, but first I will introduce you to your unit since they will be coming off duty soon for their daily debriefing.”

Clint followed the Captain up to one of the Herǫr Drengr’s assembly rooms, located on an upper floor of the palace with a window overlooking the city. Clint admired the spectacular view as they waited for his unit – the Fjǫðr Lið – to arrive. Gløggrsyn pointed out some areas of interest, such as the testing and training facility they had just left, the main market of the city, and several buildings that housed mead halls frequented by the Herǫr Drengr.

“It helps to be able to see where things are like this,” Clint admitted. “I like to have a map in my head so I can find my way around.”

“Yes, seeing from a vantage point allows one to orient oneself better even when down in the street,” Gløggrsyn agreed.

“Is that the Void?” Clint asked, pointing at a tiny disc of darkness in the sky.

“No, that is a space vessel blocking our view; it is preparing to land after traversing to a nearby star system to harvest mineral ores. The Void disappeared without a trace after the Bifröst was destroyed. We had assumed, since it had vanished and not even Heimdall could find Prince Loki, that he had been... obliterated with it.”

“Well, I guess that’s not surprising, since Loki ended up on the other side of the galaxy somewhere,” Clint remarked. “It must have acted like a wormhole.”

Gløggrsyn shook his head. “That is not all. If he had been anywhere in the known universe – on any of the realms or on any planet habitable by our kind – Heimdall should have been able to see him. Wherever he had been taken by the Void was shielded, deliberately, from our view.”

Startled, Clint turned to his new commanding officer. “Oh! So... Thanos, the guy who captured him, must have been hiding from you guys all along.”

“Thanos?” Gløggrsyn echoed, piercing the Human with a shrewd gaze. “I have not heard how Prince Loki escaped from his fate, only of his actions on Midgard. It seems he has confided more to you... or perhaps the King has simply not seen fit to make that information common knowledge.”

Clint mulled this over for a moment. “Loki did say that he hadn’t told Odin about Thanos, but he promised me that he’d at least tell his mother – the Queen, I mean – about him. Of course he hasn’t had the chance to yet since we were pretty busy on Earth and we only just got here. But from what he told me about Thanos, the guy’s incredibly powerful – even by your standards – and will probably attack again. Loki claims he doesn’t know anything that would be tactically useful, but I sure would like to know everything I can about him.”

“Thanos...” Gløggrsyn looked thoughtful. “If my memory serves, there was a Titan by the name of Thanos... They were an ancient, powerful race, but they have all long since died out...”

His musings were interrupted by the Fjǫðr Lið unit bursting into the room, laughing and talking as men relieved of a long day’s duty would. Their chatter died down when they saw Clint standing next to the Captain.

“And who is this?” asked one of them, a younger-looking man with dark blond hair and a neat but full beard.

“His name is Clint Barton,” Gløggrsyn enunciated carefully. “He is joining your unit. Aldinn, distribute the new positions before your shift tomorrow and show him to his post.”

“At last!” said another man, with brown hair and a clean-shaven face. He approached to clasp Clint’s forearm. “We have been stretched thin over the ramparts for far too long. Not that we could not defend them, of course,” he hastily added.

“But we are still two men short,” said an older man sporting a braided rust-red beard. “We can and will hold our posts if need be, but it is always better to be well manned. I take it you performed admirably in the tests to be assigned to the Fjǫðr Lið?”

“As well or better than any of you,” the Captain informed them. “He only missed one target.”

“Wait – I missed one?” Clint said, turning to Gløggrsyn in surprise.

“You did not see a hare in the first test,” he answered.

“ _Nobody_ sees the hare,” the un-bearded man put in reassuringly. “It darts past after the bilgesnipe starts charging. I don’t know why it’s even part of the test – you’re not likely to be thinking about dinner when you’re about to be trampled by a bilgesnipe!”

There were grunts of agreement and then the members started introducing themselves to Clint. The man who had spoken up first was Aldinn, the unit leader and second-in-command to Captain Gløggrsyn. The friendly, clean-shaven one was Ellri, whom everyone called “Ell” for short. The older man with the red beard was Gamall. The rest of the names were somewhat jumbled for Clint, with many that he was not sure he could pronounce, let alone spell.

“Sorry if I get it wrong,” he apologized up front.

“Your own name is a mouthful, Klintbardn,” Gamall replied, struggling.

“My full name is even worse,” Clint admitted with a rueful laugh. “I mean, who names their kid ‘Clinton Barton,’ anyway? And my middle name is _Francis_. My mother must’ve had a perverted sense of humor!”

“Middle name?” Ell said, looking puzzled.

“Um, yeah – but you can just call me ‘Clint.’ Or my codename was ‘Hawkeye’ if you like that better.” Seeing all of their bemused expressions, Clint turned to Gløggrsyn and asked, “Don’t they know... where I’m from?”

“No. I had thought to leave that to you, should you wish to reveal it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Clint wondered out loud, then immediately realized the reason. “What, you thought it would... prejudice them against me?” He did not need the Captain to answer; it had been a rhetorical question. “Well, I’ve got nothing to hide. Besides, you all would have figured it out pretty quickly, anyway. I’m from Earth – the planet you call Midgard.”

A collective gasp of amazement went up from the men.

“You’re _Midgardian?_ ” Ell asked, his jaw hanging slack.

“And he passed the tests?” Aldinn demanded of the Captain.

“He did, as I have already told you,” Gløggrsyn answered. “In fact he slew the second bilgesnipe with only two arrows – far fewer than most of you.”

There was an awkward pause as the news sank in. Clint was glad to find out that he had done better than most of the team on that particular test, but he could not really enjoy the moment since the Asgardian archers were still staring at him in shock.

“So... the rumors are true?” Gamall finally spoke up.

“What rumors?” Gløggrsyn asked, furrowing his brow.

Gamall cleared his throat nervously before explaining. “I, uh... I heard from my friend Fengil, the prison guard, that, uh... well, of course I dismissed it as a tall tale, spun out of drink and some cause to spite the Prince, but... well, I’ve heard it from other guards also, even those who would have no reason to slander Prince Loki–”

“So have I,” Aldinn interrupted. “They speak tales of Prince Loki being... _with child_. And that the father of his child is... _Midgardian_. Hence the sudden trip to Midgard with Prince Thor and the Queen.”

“Oh. Wow. Um...” Clint felt he could cut the tension in the room with a knife. “I’m sorry – I thought you all knew already. But yeah, it’s true. I’m the ‘baby daddy’ as we say on Midgard.”

Now all of the Asgardians, including Gløggrsyn, were left slack-jawed.

“But... how is that even _possible?_ ” Ell asked.

“Damned if I know,” Clint responded, scratching his head. “Even Loki didn’t know he could get pregnant until it actually happened. When he started feeling sick, he thought he’d been poisoned, but then the doctors figured out what was going on. I guess Loki’s body is just... wired differently or something. The kid seems to be doing okay so far. The Queen says they’ll be able to help him carry the baby to full term and everything, so I’m... I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well... congratulations,” Ell said, clasping Clint’s hand again with a half-incredulous smile. “I am sure you will find your child to be a source of great joy in your life, as mine are for me.”

“You got kids?” Clint asked, brightening.

“Three. Two daughters and a son. They are the light of my eyes.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet! I can’t wait to hold mine and see what he looks like,” Clint said with a grin.

“But... Prince Loki...” Gamall was muttering, looking utterly perplexed, “How can he be _with child?_ He was a... a normal boy... Not, perhaps, as strong as Prince Thor, but... still, I do not understand...”

“Perhaps he had a mishap with all the tricks he did with seiðr,” Aldinn suggested. “Perhaps he turned himself into a woman by mistake.”

Clint heard the sharpness in Aldinn’s voice and bristled. “I would have noticed if he’d had female parts, _trust_ me, and it wouldn’t have caught him by surprise when he _did_ get pregnant,” he pointed out. “The way the Queen explained it, his body was capable of developing both sexes at once, but the female side didn’t kick in until after the baby started to grow. He’s been so sick because his body’s trying to make all the female organs _now_ while also carrying the baby. Even your doctors have no idea what exactly is going to happen since he’s the first case like this.”

“Well... I suppose he always was... _unique_ ,” Aldinn replied with the barest hint of a sneer.

“Mind your tongue!” Gamall growled. “He may have been disgraced, but he is still a prince of Asgard. And regardless of the circumstances, this is our King’s first grandchild! It may well be the next heir to the throne.”

Gamall’s observation sent another shockwave through the assembled group and also informed Clint that they did not know about Loki’s true parentage.

Ell regarded Clint with new respect, even reverence, but could not stop a grin from forming on his face. “First Prince Thor, and now Prince Loki, seem to have chosen Midgardian mates,” he remarked. “There must be something about your people, Clint Barton, that mesmerizes Asgardian princes!”

Clint grinned back and demurely replied, “Must be our good looks and charm.” 


	52. Frigga Talks with Odin

Queen Frigga found her husband on a balcony overlooking the city – the same balcony, she recalled, where he had been standing after banishing Thor to Midgard. One raven was perched on his wrist; the other, on the tip of Gungnir. They both flew off as she approached.

“I know what you have come to say,” Odin said without turning around, “but you should know better than to ask me to reverse my decree.”

“Would you compound the folly of your judgment with obstinacy, then?” Frigga replied, cold fury forming an icy edge to her voice. “When you brought Loki to me as a babe, you swore that you would treat him no differently than Thor – that he would be just as much your son as your own blood. Was that oath a lie?”

“I _did_ treat him as my own son! Raised him, taught him, and loved him just as much as Thor!” Odin thundered, finally facing his wife. “I gave him every advantage of rank and privilege! But for what? After centuries of living among our people and learning from our best minds, he _still_ reverted back to the bloodthirsty ways of the Jötun. What more would you have me _do?_ ”

“Bloodthirsty?” she echoed, taken aback. “No more than Thor, who would have poured out the blood of our own men as well as our enemies in the quest for glory! And yet you gave Thor the chance to redeem himself. Even when you banished him, you sent Mjölnir to Midgard so he would have the opportunity to prove his worth. Will you provide Loki no such chance? Have you blotted him out of your heart forever?”

“Have you forgotten that he has tried to kill Thor, his brother in all but blood, at every opportunity?” the All-Father growled. “What hope of redemption is there for a heart as black as that? He had no remorse for murdering countless Midgardians, not even for attempting the annihilation of his own _race_. What else could I do but lock him up for the safety of the Nine Realms – as is my duty and responsibility? I should have executed him immediately, but for your sake I allowed him to live. Now he is about to spawn a child who will likely require constant vigilance to ensure that it does not follow in its parent’s footsteps. I have already shown Loki more leniency than is warranted by his own willful and destructive actions!”

“Have you not considered what _caused_ him to take such actions?” Frigga demanded. “What terrible choices he had to make in order to survive after he had been swept away by the Void? You never asked of him _how_ he had lived through such an ordeal or _why_ he had attacked Midgard. Were you not in the least curious as to what had changed your son – the boy who had adored you no less than Thor – to the twisted, deranged creature brought before you in chains?”

“What was there to ask? His actions spoke loudly enough!”

“Ah! But I _know!_ ” Frigga paused to gather her breath, her eyes glistening with tears as well as indignation. “He was forced to it by Thanos, the powerful being who had plucked him out of the Void. He was first ordered to attack _us_ – to attack Asgard – but he refused, even though he was tortured for his pains. He only agreed to attack Midgard in order to buy time in which to devise a plan against his captor.”

“Thanos?” Odin breathed, scarcely believing his ears. “Does the Titan yet live?”

“You know him?”

“By reputation only... but if the tales tell true... this is a serious threat indeed.” Odin paced a few steps in thought, then stopped and turned back to Frigga. “He told you this? Loki saw Thanos with his own eyes?”

“He implied as much, yes, although he only spoke of it to Clint Barton. He did not know I was observing them in their room,” Frigga admitted.

“He ought to have told us as soon as he had returned!” Odin declared, fuming. “To know that such a formidable foe is lurking in the universe and to not warn us of it–”

“You did not give him the _chance!_ ” Frigga cried. “You condemned him to the dungeons as soon as he had set foot on Asgard, with no attempt to inquire what had happened to him!”

“He had ample opportunity to explain himself, had he chosen to,” Odin retorted.

“Oh, of course – because being dragged to your throne in chains should have encouraged him to do so,” Frigga returned, her tone caustic. “Have you not heard _anything_ I have said as to how he must be handled? If he is threatened, he will only turn stubborn and his pride will prevent him from confessing anything. Only with kindness and a gentle touch will you ever coax the truth from him. He is like a wounded animal; he would rather die of his wounds than let us know of his weakness – even if we only wish to heal his hurts.”

For a moment, Odin silently watched his wife as she wrung her hands in despair. Then he approached her and held out his hand, waiting for her to take it.

“Perhaps you are right,” he relented, releasing a sigh. “Loki is stubborn and proud and given to hoarding his secrets. He taxes my patience... and you know, better than any other, what little reserves of patience I have.”

Frigga pursed her lips and studied Odin’s hand without taking it. “You also are stubborn and proud and given to hoarding secrets,” she pointed out. “He is not so different from you, Odin. In fact he is more like you, in some ways, than Thor.”

Odin’s hand, still offered in mid-air, faltered. “Is he, now?” he said in a whisper.

“You know he is.”

“Well, then,” Odin replied, meeting the gaze of his beautiful Queen, “perhaps I also need kindness and a gentle touch... lest I grow stubborn and exhaust the patience of those who would help me.”

Frigga acquiesced and took his hand at last, her expression softening. “Perhaps.”

“Come with me to the library,” Odin asked, relief mingling with concern upon his brow. “We must search the records for what information we may glean of this Thanos. And then we must speak to Loki.”

 

* * *

 

 

After the men of the Fjǫðr Lið were dismissed, Gløggrsyn took Clint to another training facility that was designed specifically for long-range weapons. Clint was not surprised that Aldinn joined them; he had already sensed that the unit leader would be the most difficult member to win over. However, Clint was willing to allow that if an alien from another planet had ever tried to join his unit at S.H.I.E.L.D., he would have wanted to make sure that the man (or woman) was capable of handling the job. Clint didn’t know how often the Asgardian guards faced combat situations, but he understood that regardless of the risk level, trust had to be earned – especially when asking others to place their lives in his hands.

The shooting gallery had targets set up at various points, with the ones at the far end looking like mere pinheads. The distance was much greater than Clint had expected, causing him to realize that the Asgardian weapons must have a longer range than their more primitive Midgardian counterparts. But the basic structure of the bow was still the same; in fact it looked very similar to the recurve bow Clint preferred himself. Gløggrsyn checked that it was adjusted to standard parameters before handing it over to him.

“Aim for whichever targets you wish,” the Captain directed. “Once you have grown accustomed to the hvassalmr bow, we will set the targets in motion.”

Clint plucked the bowstring gently, listening to the high-pitched twang to assess its strength, then spread his feet in a firing stance. For the first shot he did not compensate for gravity since he wanted to see how much the arrow would be affected. He was impressed when it dropped only five or six inches at a distance of 300 yards.

“Nice,” he remarked, notching another arrow. “You’ve obviously got better materials here; I could never get that much velocity with a simple recurve on Earth.” The next shot was a bull’s-eye. Clint grinned with pure pleasure. “It’s as powerful as a compound! I could get used to this.”

“You _must_ get used to this if you wish to join the Fjǫðr Lið,” Aldinn said with a slight frown, not understanding the Midgardian expression. Clint chuckled before he began shooting at the further targets.

“No problem there, buddy,” he murmured while he pierced target after target in its dead center. Adjusting the height of the trajectory, he was pleased to find that even the furthest target – at what he guessed to be about 1,500 yards – was still easily within range.

“Good, good,” Gløggrsyn grunted. “Are you ready for some movement now?”

“Let ’em rip, Captain,” Clint responded, grabbing another quiver. As the targets began to swirl on their invisible tracks, some curving gracefully while others zig-zagged in jerky evasive patterns, he quickly shot down the more predictable ones first and took his time calculating the harder shots. Still, it was only a matter of minutes before the forty targets had been hit, all but two of them very neatly in the center.

“Well done,” the Captain said with a nod, then turned to Aldinn, who had fallen silent. “I trust you have no more doubts as to his ability?”

“No... of course not,” Aldinn replied, looking rather chagrined but also baffled. “Clint Barton, how did you learn to shoot so well? I had heard that bows have not been in common usage on Midgard for some time now.”

“You’re right, they aren’t,” Clint agreed, pulling the arrows out of the targets as they were brought around on the track. “I grew up in a sort of... unusual environment. I was raised by carnies – carnival folks. Do you have carnivals around here?”

Aldinn shook his head. “That word is not known to us.”

“Well, do you have, like, traveling entertainers? Or even... when you have a holiday, people who perform special shows – do stuff you wouldn’t normally see – to entertain people?”

“Oh! Yes, we have entertainers, to be sure – story-tellers, singers, jugglers, and the like. They are paid to perform at feasts and celebrations.”

“Okay, so on Midgard we have groups of entertainers that travel from town to town to put on their shows. Most towns only have one carnival that comes once a year, so it’s a pretty big deal – especially for the kids.” Clint placed the last arrow back in the quiver and turned to address the other men. “I was still a kid myself when they took me in, but Popa figured out that I could shoot and made me practice. See, Popa had a shooting booth, where the townies would pay for three arrows and try to knock the prizes off the shelf – toys like stuffed bears and dolls, you know – and he wanted me to be his stick.” Clint scratched his head at the blank expressions on Gløggrsyn and Aldinn’s faces. “A stick is, uh... Well, basically, if the townies saw a little kid like me hit a prize on the first try, they’d think, ‘Hey, this is easy!’ and give it a whirl. Of course it wasn’t _that_ easy, but my job was to make it _look_ easy. And I guess I just liked it, you know... I liked being able to do something better than almost anybody else. So I saved up my pennies and kept buying bigger and better bows.” Clint turned the hvassalmr bow over in his hands appraisingly. “This is by far the best one I’ve ever used.”

“It is a worthy weapon for one as skilled as you,” Gløggrsyn told him.

“Uh... thanks,” Clint answered, flushing at the compliment. “Um... No offense, but would it be all right to make some alterations to it? If it wouldn’t be against regulations or anything...”

“What kind of alterations?” the Captain asked in surprise.

“Well, this guiding groove right here... I’d like it to be a bit shorter. It’s hard to adjust for the target’s movement at the last second, you know? It almost locks you into course so you can’t compensate for something you might notice just before you let it fly.”

Gløggrsyn’s hearty burst of laughter startled Clint, who looked up from the bow to see that even Aldinn was smiling.

“What? Did I say something funny?”

The Captain shook his head and slapped Clint’s shoulder. “No! Only that every single member of the Fjǫðr Lið has asked to make the same change to the hvassalmr. We have all disliked that feature and have pared it down to allow for more control and precision.” Gløggrsyn slapped Clint’s back again, grinning widely. “It seems you are truly meant to be one of us. Come! I will take you to the armory where you may alter it exactly as you wish.” 


	53. Odin Questions Loki

Loki was trying to decide whether he liked or disliked the song playing on the StarkTunes 3000 at the moment. While the refrain of “born to be wild” was memorable, he thought the repetition of the lyrics rather tedious. Just as he reached out to press the arrow on the screen to skip to the next song, he heard the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat. And not just any man, but the All-Father.

“Loki,” came the stern command, “open your curtains.”

Startled, Loki fumbled to turn off the device, but he regained his composure before using seiðr to part the curtains at the window where he knew Odin stood. He had not expected Frigga to be there as well, so he was forced to swallow back the sharp remark he would have made otherwise.

“Well, well, well,” he said instead, his tone dripping of honeyed sarcasm. “To what do I owe this... pleasure?”

“You have not been forthcoming with us,” Odin began, then suddenly paused when Frigga gripped his arm. “That is to say... you have underestimated our ability to seek out the truth. But the truth will be known, eventually, and the more you reveal of your own accord, the more likely... _perhaps_... you may redeem yourself from this disgrace to which you have sunk.”

Loki’s sharp eyes did not miss the tug Frigga made upon her husband’s arm at that last jibe. Realizing she must have dragged the All-Father down here to some specific end, he chose his words with care as he slowly approached the window.

“To what ‘truth’ are you referring? There are so _many_ to choose from...”

The artful, delicate arching of his brow seemed only to anger Odin more, but the King exercised great restraint in his reply.

“I speak of the Titan, Thanos, who rescued you out of the Void.”

Loki’s surprise was genuine, overtaking his expression before he could suppress it. “How did you come to know of him?” he demanded. “Did Clint talk to you – or did you coerce it from him?”

“Loki! We did no such thing,” Frigga chided. “I merely overheard your conversation with him on Midgard.”

“ _Overheard?_ ” Loki repeated. “The only time I mentioned Thanos... was...”

“Yes, you were alone with Clint in your room,” Frigga said, confirming his suspicions. “You should have realized that the Midgardians would have planted listening devices in there... as well as devices for observation. You had attempted to subjugate their realm on your previous visit, after all.”

“And you... allowed them to... _spy_ on us? Even while we were...” Loki nearly choked on the word, “ _intimate?_ ”

“They had extended the courtesy of permitting you to be with Clint, which they were under no obligation to do,” she pointed out. “And I could not demand that they make their vigilance grow lax when they were concerned for the safety of their people. I knew you would have nothing to hide in _that_ regard, so it served not only to soothe their worries but also to prove that you were no longer a threat to them.”

“So... you _knew_... they were... _observing_ us,” Loki managed to spit out, despite his breathing becoming more labored as he paced his cell, “and you did nothing to... prevent it? But rather... you used the opportunity to _eavesdrop_... on my _private_ conversation... with my Hawk?”

“Yes, of course,” Frigga answered placidly. “Dearest, I needed to be sure that your child was safe! I knew next to nothing of your Clint Barton – only that he was a Midgardian warrior – so I had no assurance that he would be gentle with you. I was very pleased when he laid all my fears to rest and, I must say, I was also impressed with how talented and skillful he is. I understand now why you are so taken with him.”

This last bit of news, delivered with aplomb, caused Loki to cease his pacing and stop in his tracks, staring with wide-eyed horror at the woman who had reared him.

“You _watched?!_ ” he cried in disbelief.

“Only until I was certain that his passion would not lead to excessive force,” Frigga assured him.

Loki reached behind him for a chair, summoning it by seiðr before collapsing into it, aghast. Even Odin could not help but sympathize.

“But enough of that,” the All-Father interrupted, providing a welcome distraction. “We came to speak with you regarding Thanos and the threat he presents to all of the Nine Realms.”

“Thanos... yes, of course,” Loki mumbled. Pulling himself together with an effort, he looked up at Odin and resumed his mask of nonchalance. “You wish to know of his weaknesses, no doubt, but I can only tell you that he has none.”

“Our records mention little about him or even his race,” Odin grudgingly admitted. “What more can you tell us of him? If not his weaknesses, what are his strengths?”

Loki’s features hardened subtly as his cunning mind assessed the situation.

“Why should I tell you?” he asked, his voice infuriatingly smooth and, on the surface, reasonable. “What are you willing to offer in exchange for this... precious information? Information which, I might add, I gained only at great price and... personal pain.”

“Oh, Loki!” Frigga sighed, preventing Odin from lashing out with an angry retort. “What did he do to you? What pain did he inflict upon you to make you accede to his will?”

Loki pursed his lips, struggling to keep from showing how much the Queen’s query had knocked him off-balance. He did not wish to relive what he had suffered at Thanos’ hands, so his answer was curt.

“Suffice it to say that... after my ordeal in Thanos’ court, even birthing this child will seem easy by comparison.”

“Oh, my dear,” Frigga whispered, noting that Loki had instinctively clutched his left wrist. “How you must have suffered!”

“It was no more painful than finding out that my _entire life_ had been a _lie_ ,” Loki shot back before he could stop himself. The stricken look on Frigga’s face pierced his heart, but since he could not take back the words, he continued on, addressing Odin instead. “If you wish to learn about Thanos, make me an offer commensurate to what this information is worth to you. If you have nothing to offer, I have nothing to say.”

“ _That_ is not how this _works_ , Loki!” Odin shouted, too furious to care whether the entire prison ward heard him. “You are in no position to _bargain_ with us! Tell us what you know, and if I deem that you have been forthright with us, I may _possibly_ consider granting some of the privileges your mother wishes to bestow upon you. But you have already tipped your hand, foolish boy! If you do not know of any weaknesses in Thanos that we may exploit, whatever information you might share is _useless!_ ”

“And _I_ have no use for an extra portion of _fruit_ with my meals!” Loki snarled in contempt, leaping to his feet. “You think I am the only one who has tipped my hand? Ha! You also have revealed that you know nothing of the Titan! Which means,” he added with a triumphant, haughty scowl, “I am the only one with _any_ knowledge that could help you formulate a plan against his attack. And believe me... he _will_ attack!”

“Loki, Loki!” Frigga cried, standing as close to the barrier as she could. “Will you not help us defend against him of your own free will? Even when such an attack must mean grave peril to your _child?_ ”

Her plea had the desired effect: it gave Loki pause, at least for a moment, and stopped his shouting match with Odin. When he replied, it was in a much more sober tone.

“If Thanos comes... _When_ Thanos comes,” he corrected himself, “he will free me from this prison and reinstate me as his... ally. I have certain talents... skills... that he values. I shall be able to protect my child so long as I remain loyal to him... which is, perhaps, more than _you_ can claim.”

The taunt was aimed for Odin, but Frigga replied quicker than the King.

“Would you not help us, then, for the sake of your brother?” she asked, sorrow lining her brow.

“My brother!” Loki spat. “Oh, yes – my wonderful, caring _brother!_ The one who would have left me to rot in here for all eternity had you not ordered him to come! Even Thanos’ ill-bred daughters lent me more comfort than that, though they owed me nothing. If you wish to appeal to my better nature, dear _Mother_ ,” he declared, his expression hard, “you will have to choose a more worthy object, I’m afraid!”

“Then do it for Clint Barton,” Frigga said earnestly, never quailing even in the face of his fury. “He is a mortal and much more vulnerable in the event of such a horrific attack. Please, Loki! Think of what a war would mean for him, and not only him but the countless others whose lives would be affected. And if that still fails to move your heart, consider how it would grieve _mine_.”

The soul-searing look she gave him then would have melted even the coldest glacier on Jötunheim. Loki’s shoulders sagged and – though he was yet loath to admit it in Odin’s presence – he was ready to surrender.

“It’s no use,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the barrier. “Thanos is more powerful than any other force or being I have ever encountered. Even Gungnir may not be sufficient to withstand his strength.”

Expelling a sigh, Loki continued speaking to Frigga, as though by not acknowledging Odin’s presence he might cause the All-Father to cease to exist.

“He knows about Gungnir now, of course... from me, though not willingly. He sifted through my mind – one of his many abilities – to learn what treasures lie in Asgard. He is particularly interested in collecting the six Infinity Stones, of which the Tesseract is but one. He has been searching for the others and has agents throughout the universe willing to barter or kill for them.”

“No!” Odin breathed in dismay. “He means to create the Infinity Gauntlet!”

Loki nodded, resigned now. “He would be delighted to get his hands upon the powerful treasures in the vault here as well, meaning the very weapons you would use to defend Asgard against his attack would be used to conquer the other realms afterward. So if Asgard falls, all will fall... and his rule would be absolute.”

Odin narrowed his eye with determination. “We will _not_ fall. We _must_ not!”

“You must help us, Loki,” Frigga said, her voice gentle and persuasive, “for the future of Asgard and your own child... for _all_ of us.”

Loki stroked the protrusion of his belly, silently mulling over her words. Although he had claimed immunity from Thanos – provided that he remained the Titan’s faithful pawn – it was more of a bluff than a certainty, and having experienced first-hand the levels of cruelty the creature was willing to inflict, Loki had more reason than most to desire his erstwhile captor’s defeat. He finally turned back to Odin with a slight shrug.

“What do you wish to know?” 


	54. Guest of Honor

By the time his new hvassalmr bow had been modified to his liking, Clint was hungry enough to realize that it must be close to dinnertime although he did not have a watch – or know how time worked on Asgard for that matter. He was glad when Gløggrsyn declared him fit to start duty the next day and offered to lead him to the royal dining room.

“Um... Is there like a Mess – a common dining room for the troops?” he asked the Captain as they navigated the crowded street.

“To be sure! The men in the barracks dine in the great hall on the first sub-floor. It is the largest hall of its kind in the palace, if not the most richly furnished.”

“Could you show me where that is? I don’t mean to be rude to the Queen, but I’d rather eat with the rest of the guys than, you know, the whole royal family.” To Gløggrsyn’s questioning look, Clint shrugged and replied, “I’m just an ordinary guy, and I just want to be one of the team. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m putting on airs or getting special treatment. Plus I don’t think the King is a fan of my being here, even though he did say I could stay for the sake of my kid. But it’s a bit nerve-wracking to be with the in-laws, so to speak, without having Loki there to help me out.”

Gløggrsyn barked out a laugh and clapped Clint on the shoulder.

“’Tis always hard to marry into another’s family, regardless of the circumstances! And yours, I think, are not easy circumstances.”

“Yeah... Knocking up their son didn’t exactly earn me any brownie points,” Clint said with a wry grin. “Being a ‘Midgardian mortal’ doesn’t help, either.”

The Captain nodded in sympathy. “It does not do to dwell on the hardships in one’s life,” he advised. “For now, know that none would think ill of you for sitting at the King’s table – you are here as the Queen’s honored guest and expected to keep company with them. But you may break your fast with the rest of the men since your watch will start before the first meal is served at the royal table.”

Gløggrsyn led Clint down to the main mess hall, showed him that his fingerprints and retinal patterns were registered so he could avail himself of the provisions there, and then put him on a lift that would take him up to the royal quarters.

“I will not see you on the morrow until day’s end,” he told him. “Aldinn will instruct you on your duties and accompany you for the first few days. Eat well and rest well tonight, for I expect you to work well tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir!” Clint responded with a sharp Midgardian salute.

Gløggrsyn returned a hearty Asgardian salute – a fist to the chest – before leaving. He knew the Human had many things yet to learn, but he was confident that Clint would perform his duties well.

Clint himself did not feel very confident as he entered the royal dining hall again, but his new hvassalmr bow, which truly was the best weapon he had ever possessed, helped to bolster him against his misgivings and insecurities. Fandral was the first to notice his arrival and remarked upon the weapon immediately.

“Ah! So our Midgardian hero has earned his way into the best of the best – the Fjǫðr Lið! Now that you have the bow, you are a true warrior of Asgard.”

Clint smiled self-consciously and held up the bow for the others to see. “So far so good. I just hope I won’t disappoint anyone.”

“You should be proud. You are the first of your race to ever join the Asgardian army – let alone the most prestigious unit of the Herǫr Drengr,” Sif said with an appraising glance. “If you fight as valiantly for us as you have in your own realm, there will be many tales sung of your deeds.”

“Ah! Here come the minstrels now,” Volstagg announced with a nod in the direction of the door. A trio of musicians, accompanied by Thor, had walked in and was settling into an alcove with their stringed instruments. Thor came over to join them in admiring the hvassalmr and comparing it to Clint’s Midgardian bow. They were so engrossed in Clint’s explanation of all the customizations he had done to both that they did not notice the Queen’s presence until she spoke.

“I am pleased to see that you are properly equipped,” she said, then held out a leather wristband covered in braided designs to Clint. “This will aid you in finding your way until you have learned all of the passages of the palace.”

To Clint’s surprise, the decorative studs on the band were buttons that turned on a holographic projection of his immediate surroundings, adjustable for range in any direction, with the option of having routes suggested for any destination – all he had to do was say where he wanted to go.

“Wow! Voice-activated 3D GPS!”

“I beg your pardon?”

He was still explaining the acronyms when Odin walked in. Once they were seated and the food was served, the musicians began playing soothing tunes.

“My friend, you can also keep a list in this device of the places you will most often frequent,” Fandral leaned over to tell him, tapping the wristband with a finger. “I can suggest several mead halls where the drinks are excellent and the women... _hospitable_.”

The quick lift of his eyebrows left Clint in no doubt as to his meaning.

“Uh... thanks. For now I just need to know how to get down to the dungeons,” Clint replied. “I hope to memorize the way soon, but all the floors here look alike so I’ll probably need to use this for a while.”

“Ah! Of course. You’ll want to see how your child is doing,” Fandral said with a nod.

“Yeah... and Loki,” Clint added, his forehead furrowing. “I’m more worried about _him_ , sitting there alone all day...”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about _him_ ,” was Fandral’s cheerful reply. “He likes being left alone – insists on it, in fact! He often holes up in the library for hours on end, with only the books for company, and is quite cross with anyone who dares intrude on his solitude. Or at least, he used to,” Fandral amended.

“Huh. I always knew he was smart, although I hadn’t pegged him as the bookish type. To be honest, I thought you guys would have more advanced ways for learning stuff.”

“Much of our knowledge is stored in books,” Frigga interjected from Clint’s other side. “And there are advantages to reading from a solid object. The way the words look on the page, how the light strikes the pictures, the weight of the book in one’s hands – all are helpful for engraining the information in one’s mind. And some of our most ancient records are accessible only from the original writings. Loki is very fond of gleaning arcane information from them.”

“He sure was thorough in researching about Earth,” Clint remarked. “He wanted to know every detail that might be exploitable. I guess he wanted to make sure his plan would work... or maybe he enjoys doing research.”

“He was always inquisitive as a child,” Frigga said, a hint of nostalgia drawing her eyes away from her guest. “When something interested him, he was determined to learn everything about it.”

It occurred to Clint that the demi-god had learned everything about _him_ while he had been under Loki’s control – even experientially, when he had invited Clint to be his lover – but the Human did not care to broach the subject in his current setting. He simply wanted to finish eating and slip out as soon as possible so he could report the day’s events to Loki, who (Clint assumed) had been left alone in the dungeons since they had parted, deprived of any company or news. But the opportunity to hear about Loki’s younger years was too good to pass up, so Clint prodded Frigga for more details, which she was happy to supply. Hearing how Loki had thrown himself full-heartedly into drawing or how he had bumbled when learning his first seiðr spells brought a genuine smile to the archer’s face, transforming it with warmth and feeling.

“By the Norns!” Fandral exclaimed, observing him. “You truly _are_ smitten with our rascal prince, aren’t you?”

Caught off guard, Clint could not hide his irritation as he turned and retorted, “Yeah – is that so hard to believe?”

“Well... yes,” Fandral replied in a reasonable tone. “After all, he bent your will to his by seiðr and made you do his nefarious bidding. He used you against your own people, even your own comrades, did he not? So I do find it odd that you should be so enamored of him. It’s as though you’re still under his spell.”

Losing his patience, Clint stood up from the table. A split second later he regretted it, sensing all eyes – including that of Odin – focused upon him, but it was too late to undo. He forced his voice, at least, to remain calm as he answered Fandral’s last comment.

“I’m _not_ still under his spell, and I’m not being influenced by his pheromones, either. We went over all this while we were still on Earth. So... thanks for your concern, but I’m here of my own volition... because I _want_ to be near Loki. I don’t know how long you’ve known him, but I’m willing to bet you’ve never got inside of his head – or vice versa – like I have. And what I learned was that he’s just like anybody else. And yeah, I love him. So if you’ll excuse me,” he added, addressing Frigga, “I’d like to go see him and fill him in on all that’s happened today.”

“Of course,” the Queen murmured, touched by his declaration.

Clint bowed to the company at large, then turned and walked out of the room at a brisk pace. Only when he was safely out of earshot did he stop to activate his wristband for directions to the dungeons.

The dinner party, though stunned, resumed eating with Volstagg leading the way. Thor realized belatedly that Clint had not heard any of the songs written in his honor; however, the thunder god was more unsettled by the archer’s candid profession of love for his erstwhile brother. Before Thor could pursue the reason for his disquietude, his attention was commandeered by his father, who wished to discuss with him the information on Thanos extracted from Loki.

 

* * *

 

Although Loki had carefully avoided mentioning any of the personal indignities to which Thanos had subjected him, after Odin and Frigga had left the dungeons he could not prevent those memories from coming to the forefront of his mind. Hence when the guards pushed his dinner tray through the trap door, Loki was still showering – thankful once again for the privacy afforded him by the curtains – and scrubbing his skin with a vengeance, as though the marks of his captivity and abuse were still clinging to him. He was exhausted, his skin red and tingling from the friction, when he finally shut off the water and wrapped a robe around his body. Despite his furious cleansing, he had been careful of the bulge of his belly. He cradled it now with his arm as he sat at the table and forced himself to eat. He had no appetite, even though he had purged his stomach of its accumulating bile, but he did not want to harm his child by not providing it with the proper nutrition.

“Loki?”

He started at the sound of Clint’s voice, then immediately drew back the curtains so he could see his lover. The sly grin on Clint’s face combined with the hvassalmr bow in his hand served to assure Loki that the Midgardian had indeed been accepted into the Herǫr Drengr.

“I knew it!” Loki crowed. “I knew they would not deny such talent!”

His heart danced to see Clint blush at his words. Loki sat on the ledge beside the force field with his back propped against a wall, arranging the hem of his robe to better cover his legs (also managing somehow to make them look more alluring) while Clint sat on the ledge outside of the cell.

“Your hair looks nice like that,” Clint said, surprising Loki.

“Oh! It hasn’t dried yet... and I haven’t done anything with it,” he replied, fussing with the untidy heap of curly locks. “I’m a dreadful mess!”

“No, you look good... really,” Clint insisted. “I’m just sorry I can’t run my fingers through your hair...”

The wistfulness in the archer’s voice caused a lump to form in Loki’s throat. With great effort the trickster god cleared it enough to answer, “As am I.”

They talked late into the night until Clint could not stop yawning and Loki insisted that he get some rest before his first day on duty. Loki stood as close as he dared to the force field to watch his Hawk leave and was rewarded when, just before he would be lost from sight, Clint turned back and touched his fingers to his lips. Loki mirrored the gesture, knowing it was the closest thing to a kiss that they would be able to share for a long time – perhaps forever. When Clint finally disappeared from view, Loki curled into the fetal position in his bed, clutched Clint’s shirt to his chest, and wept himself to sleep.


	55. Interlude 1: Loki in Thanos’ Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Explicit descriptions of rape and other non-consensual sex acts and torture in the Interlude chapters. Reader discretion advised.

_Cold. Cold that permeated the body and numbed the mind. Cold that froze even the soul, trapping it in its mortal coil and preventing it from whatever release – Valhalla or Hel – that awaited it. The vastness of the universe was filled with space devoid of any heat or comfort, overflowing with an abundance of life-killing cold._

_And still it was not enough to drown out the pain that seared Loki’s heart._

_“No.”_

_A single sound, representing all the centuries of rejection piled upon Loki, who could no longer deny its existence or relegate it to a matter of mere birth order. Odin’s pronouncement echoed in the starless tracks through which Loki floated, dead and yet not dead, mocking him with its never-ending finality._

_The cold did dull his senses, however, so when at last there was a change in his environment (whether after an eternity or a moment, he could not tell), Loki resisted the thaw by withdrawing deeper within the cold that had settled in his bones. To awaken was to feel – to feel was pain. Loki burrowed deeper, sinking into the cold, embracing it._

“What is this?”

The large voice barraged his ears, shattering his frozen eardrums and forcing him to listen.

“He was found floating in the wreckage recovered in the Kafra sector. He looks to be Asgardian.”

Warmth assaulted Loki and he realized that he was being lifted, held in the grip of something that exuded heat. The pain increased with his returning senses but he could not even flinch. Reflexively he tried to see, only to find that his eyes were frozen shut by a solid casing of tears.

“His clothes are Asgardian... but he is not Æsir. He would not have survived in the Void if he were.” Pain seared his left arm – pain that was both hot and cold simultaneously, different from the other pain and yet familiar, traveling up his arm. “Ah! He is a Jötun, one of the Frost Folk, disguised as an Æsir. Perhaps he was a spy... or a saboteur. That would explain the destroyed pieces of the Bifröst.”

“What do you wish to do with him, Lord Thanos?”

There was a pause as heat assailed Loki’s left cheek.

“He is a pretty one. I will keep him as my fuck-toy for now.”

What little warmth had returned to Loki’s body froze again at those words. This time he did not wish to retreat into the cold but rather to have his limbs freed from their stiffness so he could fight back – escape – or at least die in the attempt. However, his greatest effort to move his arms resulted in only a twitch.

Meanwhile the warmth at his cheek had moved up to his temple and spread over his eyes. Whether he would or no, the ice caking his lashes was melted, and in helpless curiosity he opened them to see his captor: the deeply creased, leering, purple face of a monster. Loki tried to scream but no sound came out of his frozen vocal cords.

“Hmm... _Very_ pretty.”

Thanos’ satisfied assessment would have made Loki tremble if his body were not still paralyzed from the cold. He could not so much as turn away while the Titan ran a large finger along his jaw, down the side of his throat, and then under his collar.

“You did well to bring him to me. You may leave now... or stay and watch, if you wish.”

“I do wish to see what sport he may afford you, Master,” came the groveling voice. Loki was unable to see the owner yet, but it was a minor concern compared to the fact that Thanos was now methodically undressing him.

“Your Jötun form would please me as well, Pretty One,” the Titan murmured, “but I will save that pleasure for another time. For now, let us see if your Æsir form makes you as nearly indestructible as a true Asgardian. It will need to be to accommodate my cock...”

Thanos laid Loki face-up and naked on a cold slab of stone, then rose from his throne to reveal that he did indeed possess an enormous cock – even in proportion to his hulking frame – which had pushed aside the codpiece hanging from his belt when it had grown fully erect. The bulging veins on its surface pulsed visibly as Thanos slathered it with lubricant, fondling it for good measure.

 _It won’t fit! It will tear me apart_ , Loki thought in terror. It was every bit as thick as Thor’s forearm and nearly as long. In desperation Loki tried to spread his fingers to summon seiðr, but his hands were still unresponsive.

“Do not fear, Pretty One – I will not kill you before I have had my fill,” Thanos chuckled, as though he had sensed Loki’s failed attempt at defense. With his lubricated hand, the Titan thrust a finger into Loki’s anus and twisted it around. Had Loki been able, he would have screamed at the pain of the rough intrusion; as it was he could only shed silent tears while his captor forced a second digit into his ass and used both to stretch his opening.

“Tight but resilient... It seems you possess all the qualities of an Æsir while also retaining those of a Jötun. Curious...”

A third finger was added and for the first time Loki’s body moved noticeably, jerking in response to the pain of being stretched too fast. Loki’s tears were flooding his ears, blinding him to Thanos’ movements until the huge, ugly face drew near his own.

“Does it hurt, Pretty One? But this pain is _nothing_ compared to what it would have been if I had fucked you without preparing your hole. And now you are almost ready... just a little more...”

Loki’s back arched up off the stone slab as a fourth finger – Thanos’ entire hand except for the thumb – was wedged into his orifice. A cry escaped his lips at last, his body having gradually warmed and regained some control. Loki drew on seiðr to cast a spell, then hesitated.

 _An attack now will be ineffective and pointless_ , he realized, since he had not yet fully recovered his strength; even with his full powers, he did not know if he could do any damage to his gigantic assailant, whose very being seemed to hum with unfathomable power. With the little seiðr he had at his command, Loki decided to use a once-familiar spell for relaxing his anal muscles – a spell he had used often during the time Thor had been his lover. At once the pain dissipated and Thanos’ fingers slid easily within his rectum.

“Ah! Good. You have made a wise choice, Pretty One,” the Titan said, withdrawing his hand. His mammoth cock replaced it at the entrance to Loki’s ass. “Serve me well and you shall be... rewarded.”

Thanos pressed his cock into the orifice with an appreciative groan, plunging deeper slowly but steadily. Loki struggled to breathe while his body endeavored to adjust to such a large object being forced inside. Just when he thought he could not take any more, he felt the metal of Thanos’ armor press against his thighs and ass. A sob of relief escaped him, but it was short-lived, for the Titan immediately began thrusting back and forth in his tight passage.

“Good... Good! You please me well, Pretty One. Rarely has a male of your size... survived being penetrated... by my cock,” Thanos panted, grinning with pleasure. “I will fill you well... with my come... and see it drip... from your gaping hole!”

Loki only heard him dimly, distracted by the sensation of having his entrails rearranged within his body. The pain he had experienced in the Void had been cold and numbing; now it was overlaid with physical pain and humiliation and anger and frustration at his helplessness, turning it into a searing, burning fire that threatened to consume him whole.

_“No... No... No... No...”_

The one word repeated itself over and over, like a mantra, in Loki’s mind, but in his current state he could not distinguish the cry of his soul – protesting the rape of his body – from the pronouncement of Odin – denying Loki’s very existence. He did not even realize that he was saying it aloud.

“You may pretend... to resist my cock,” Thanos told him, “but your body... says otherwise.”

To Loki’s shame, his own cock grew hard when the Titan grasped it in one hand and ran a thumb along its underside.

_“No... No... No...”_

“You will succumb... to my cock... as all others have... before you...” Thanos grunted, continuing to fuck him unmercifully. He was stroking Loki’s cock in time to his movements as well, drawing a drop of pre-come from its head. “ _All_ succumb... eventually... if they can even... _endure_ it.”

 _“No... No... No...”_ Loki moaned as he was driven to the brink of climax. Thanos toyed with him for a while, gripping the base of Loki’s cock to prevent his release while stimulating it with a thumb, as well as rubbing Loki’s prostate with his cockhead. The short, titillating thrusts of that giant organ drove Loki mad with equal parts desire and loathing until, finally, Thanos loosened his grip on Loki's cock and allowed him to finish. Loki cried out as his come spattered the Titan’s armor and dripped back down onto his pale skin.

“Good... Good,” Thanos said while he dug deeper with his cock, lifting and spreading Loki’s long legs by the ankles in order to better see where he was entering his victim’s ass. His thrusts grew faster and more erratic as he also neared his climax.

 _“No... No...”_ Loki thought desperately. “Help... Somebody, please... help me... Thor... Brother, please... Thor!”

Thanos’ cock moved ever more quickly, disregarding any pain on Loki’s part, as the Titan sought his ultimate pleasure.

“Heimdall! Help! Please, anybody! Mother! _Mother!_ Oh, Norns... _Thor!_ ”  

With a shout of triumph, Thanos began to come, flooding Loki’s body with hot semen. The Titan growled as he continued to pound into the smaller humanoid while spurt after spurt of the fluid shot into Loki’s bowels, bathing it as well as Thanos’ cock, which churned it into a sticky foam with every subsequent thrust. Loki shuddered and flailed his legs (scarcely aware of the fact that he was now able to do so) while Thanos wrung every last ounce of pleasure from his unwilling body. The Titan lowered his monstrous face close to Loki’s when his cock ceased its frenetic movements.

“You please me well, Pretty One,” he rumbled. “You are the best cock-toy I have had in several centuries. Tell me, who else has taken pleasure in your ass?”

Loki was too exhausted and overwrought to answer, but Thanos had not expected him to. The Titan gripped Loki’s left arm above the wrist and infused it with a slightly different form of power than before. Loki wailed as Thanos sifted through the pictures in his mind like a careless child rifling through a book, then honed in on the memories of Thor fucking Loki – laughing and playful at times, urgent and demanding at others – and brought each image into sharp focus.

“So the Prince of Asgard was your lover? A strange bedfellow indeed for a Jötun! But perhaps that had been your plan – to seduce him and discover his weaknesses. Speak, Pretty One, and tell me all you know of Asgard.”

In his weakened state, Loki could not resist Thanos’ questioning, for he realized that compliance would be far easier than having the Titan search through his memories by force. He told his captor about his recent discovery regarding his origins; how his affair with his supposed brother had been fueled by lust rather than design; and how (in his mind) he had been discarded by Odin when his superior intellect had threatened the All-Father’s true son’s right to succession.

“Hmm... Interesting, but useless information at this point,” Thanos remarked when Loki paused for breath. “Tell me of the royal treasure trove – what weapons of mighty power does it contain?”

“Many,” was Loki’s cautious reply. “The greatest of them is Gungnir, which I wielded all too briefly. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, may be the next most powerful, but only he can wield it, and even he not always.”

“Can you allow me to enter the vault undetected, as you did with your fellow Jötnar?”

Loki’s heart skipped a beat at the reminder, but he swallowed and answered with a semblance of the truth.

“I can guide you there, but whether you would be successful in raiding it is another matter. Odin will have changed the passwords for entry by now, so even if I take on the form of a guard, I would not be able to open the doors to you without learning the new passwords. And Heimdall, the Gatekeeper, will surely sniff out the secret ways I had used to bring the Jötnar in – making it more difficult than before to fool him, even with seiðr. Then, if you are able to enter the vault, you must deal with the Destroyer. For all your power, it will still be a formidable foe.”

“What is this Destroyer?” Thanos demanded, scoffing. “You think it could withstand _me?_ ”

Loki conjured up images of the Destroyer razing the town of Puente Antiguo, bringing them to the forefront of his mind so that Thanos could easily see them. Loki was glad that, while he had been speaking, he had recovered enough of his strength that he was now able to conceal from the Titan the part where the Warriors Three and Thor had destroyed the Destroyer.

Thanos frowned at the images. “That is not an Asgardian town it is destroying.”

“No – it is a small village on Midgard,” Loki explained. “While I was King, I sent it there to... eradicate some vermin.”

“You know Midgard well, then?” Thanos asked, a new glint in his eyes.

“Well enough. Not that I care to know much of such a backward, insignificant realm.”

“Hmm... Very interesting.” Thanos stood and withdrew his cock before adjusting his clothing. “You may prove more useful than I had thought. Rest now and regain your strength – I will send for you when I am ready to fuck you again.”


	56. Interlude 2: Loki Meets Gamora

Just because Loki had been dismissed from Thanos’ presence did not mean that he could leave on his own. His body was still suffering the aftereffects of being in the Void for so long and the Titan’s abuse had left him weak and sore, unable to even contemplate standing up, let alone walking. The owner of the wheedling voice came into view and ordered several soldiers to move him onto a hovering gurney, tossing his clothes haphazardly over his naked form. Loki closed his eyes and focused on gathering enough seiðr with which to clean himself as he was transported to another asteroid in the archipelago that constituted the seat of Thanos’ reign. The sheer volume of semen that the Titan had released into his body made his stomach churn; if there had been anything in it, he would have vomited. As it was, he managed to swallow down the sick feeling – not wanting to show any more signs of weakness to his captors – and siphoned out his rapist’s come, banishing it into the ether. It took him several tries and the entire trip to his assigned room to clean out his passage.

The hooded figure commanding the soldiers had followed them into the room and, after they had filed out, leaned close to whisper lecherously in Loki’s ear.

“You have pleased Lord Thanos well, Pretty One... We shall see how long you can keep his attention. But when he tires of you, I will remind him that _I_ had brought you to him. Perhaps then he will allow me to taste of your charms as well...”

Loki flinched when a many-fingered hand touched his cheek and stroked down to his shoulder.

“You cannot hope to satisfy me after I have been sated by your master’s cock,” he hissed in reply, twisting to break contact with the unwelcome hand. As he rolled onto his back, his ass was pressed into the cold slime of semen that had dripped out of his gaping hole and pooled on the gurney. Loki was tempted to throw up what little bile there was in his stomach, aiming it at the bare chest of his captor. He only refrained because he did not have the strength to sit up.

“You are too proud, weakling! But you will soon learn the value of humility as Lord Thanos bends you to his will. And you will beg me soon enough to fuck you – if only to escape being fed to the space serpent like so many of your predecessors were!”

“That would be a waste of my considerable talents,” Loki retorted, unabashed. His tormentor snorted.

“You are lucky that Lord Thanos has made you his fuck toy... for now. Once he discards you, we shall see how haughty you remain!”

Loki watched as the hooded figure stalked out of his room. He guessed the door was locked; even if it were not, he could not cross the short distance to escape. Not yet, anyway. He sighed before drawing on seiðr to clean his ass and the surface of the gurney, then collapsed to let exhaustion claim him. Maddeningly, however, he could not sleep.

Against his will he began to remember the Void where he had drifted, cold in mind and body, angry with a fury which was so frigid as to burn. He saw now that he had been in a type of stasis, his thoughts in a never-ending cycle bordering on unconsciousness. _It was Thor’s fault. It was Odin’s fault. It was the fault of the Warriors Three and Sif who became traitors rather than uphold my regal, lawful decree... in spite of all their previous claims to be my friends._ He knew better now; they had proven their malice towards him. Even Heimdall, sworn to be loyal to the throne, had turned against him. It was painfully clear to Loki that he had never had any friends, not even allies. His father – or rather, the man who had masqueraded as his father – had never loved him. Thor had chosen a Midgardian woman, a mere mortal, over him. Even being trapped in the Void was better than the pain of watching his former lover making cow eyes at an equally imbecilic woman.

But of course Loki had not been granted the luxury of remaining in the Void. From what he had overheard, he must have been flung to the far reaches of the universe by the rift created in space-time by the Bifröst, then deposited like so much detritus along with the broken fragments of the machine.

And then he had been brought to Thanos.

Reliving the atrocity done to him, at last his tears began to fall. Thor had sometimes been demanding of his attentions, driven by youthful need, but he had never forced himself upon Loki. None other would have dared touch him (as long as he had been considered a prince of Asgard) without his voiced consent. However, the recent violation of his person had been absolute: body, mind, and spirit. Thanos had made certain of that – had ensured that his captive would have neither the will nor the ability to resist. Loki knew this had been the Titan’s objective, and he also knew the monster had succeeded.

His own pitiful cries echoed in his ears. He had called upon those whom he had once trusted, begging for help, desperate to escape the nightmare of being raped by Thanos, but none had answered. Removed from the trauma, albeit by very little, Loki was appalled by his own lack of reason during the fucking. Of course none had come to his rescue, for the Bifröst had been destroyed. Even if they wanted to, they could not have. Odin might be able to gather enough dark energy to send one warrior, but of course he would not – not for Loki, the Jötun failure. He had merely been an experiment gone bad, a flawed specimen to be discarded. And Thor, also, would not care to spare his life – especially at such great expense and risk – upon calm consideration. He might have been persuaded, in the heat of the moment and with Loki tugging at his good nature, to spare him once; a second time, weighed in the dispassionate light of day, would not be worth the trouble.

His mother, Frigga, might be a different matter. Loki clung to the thought that she would plead for him, that she would never condone abandoning him to such a fate, regardless of his former crimes. But if Odin did not inform her what her erstwhile son was enduring, how could she even know to intercede on his behalf? And then there was the issue of Heimdall: even where the All-Father, with the aid of Gungnir, could not see, the Gatekeeper possessed a clear view. But after Loki had tried to freeze him (only immobilizing him, Loki self-righteously noted), Heimdall might not feel inclined to tell the Queen what was happening to her wayward son. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more convinced Loki became that the only two men who could see him now were the least likely to help him.

Would they have told Frigga that he had died? Perhaps deceived Thor also to put an end to their questions? None other would bother to pursue the whereabouts of the disgraced prince. Loki concluded that there was no help to be had for him at all – at least not from Asgard. He was utterly and hopelessly alone.

He started when the door opened. The involuntary jerking movement made him aware of all the ways in which his body had been abused, but the pain served to clear his mind. Warily he stared at the green female who had entered the room. He only wished he could wipe the tears from his face without her noticing.

“Good, you are still alive,” the woman said, approaching him in a businesslike manner. “Father told me to see to it that you are fed and cared for. Here is a nutrition bar – eat it slowly in case it does not agree with you. Here is water also.”

After probing the contents of the containers with seiðr and confirming that they were not poisoned, Loki attempted to sit up. He groaned as his muscles protested.

“Do you require assistance?” the woman asked, though not bothering to draw any closer.

“No... I do not,” Loki replied through gritted teeth as he pushed himself up from the bed and swung his legs over its edge, then bit back a cry of pain as his ass was forced to take the brunt of his weight. Leaning his back against the wall to alleviate some of the discomfort, he accepted the nutrition bar and water but did not ingest them yet, choosing instead to stare at the woman as she observed him in return. Although he was still naked, his clothes having fallen to the floor, he was beyond caring about modesty. “You said your father sent you...”

“Thanos,” she clarified. Loki did not miss the slight, unconscious grimace her features made. “He wishes for you to be treated well... at least, as long as you are his fuck toy.”

“How generous of him,” he said with the barest hint of sarcasm. He made a show of studying her from head to foot. “You look nothing like him.”

“No, I... I am not his daughter by birth.”

“Ah. I did not think him capable of producing an offspring so beautiful.”

He said it without any intention of flattery, merely a statement of fact.

“You should be more careful of what you say and to whom. Thanos will not tolerate insubordination.”

“Ha,” Loki laughed mirthlessly. “He has captured, humiliated, and raped me – what more can he do besides kill me? And that is not a fate I fear.”

The woman tilted her head as though incredulous of his claim.

“I chose death before I came here... it was preferable to being supplanted by a fool whose only merit is his bloodline.” Loki took a sip of the water while the woman waited for him to continue. “I was the rightful king of Asgard – by all accounts the more clever son of Odin – and I would have led our people into glory and prosperity unmatched in the countless eons of our history. But alas... Odin chose my brother, a witless oaf, to rule instead of me. All because I was not his son by birth.”

The woman seemed startled at that. Loki took another drink, grateful for the relief to his parched throat.

“I had not known my true origins until recently... my ‘father’ had kept the truth from me, perhaps hoping to engender unwavering loyalty to him through my ignorance. But I forced the facts from him. When he had slaughtered my people, the Jötnar, he found a babe in the aftermath of the battle... and took it as a spoil of war. A relic like the other trophies he and his ancestors had stolen from their conquests.”

Despite his involvement in telling the bitter tale, Loki could see that the woman was shaken.

“Your father,” she murmured, “sounds much like mine...”

“Oh?” Loki prompted, arching his brows.

“Thanos murdered all of my people, the Zehoberei... I watched him kill my parents. Then he brought me here to be his ‘daughter.’ I longed for death... but... I survived. He trained me to be a warrior, at which I excelled. For now, I am his slave and his weapon.” Her green eyes locked with Loki’s in a challenge, a test. “Someday I hope to be free of him... though I do not know how. His reach spans the galaxies – he has spies everywhere. And yet I yearn for the day when we will all be free of his menace.”

They were dangerous words, but Loki realized that she had sensed in him the insubordination she herself had warned him against – she knew he would never truly submit to Thanos, any more than she would. They were kindred rebellious spirits.

Then another realization struck him.

“He did _this_... to you, also?”

The look of horror on Loki’s face was unfeigned. The woman cast her eyes down for a moment, then defiantly raised her chin and met his gaze.

“I do not need your pity,” she stated. “But if you can survive the first few weeks – if you do not die of injuries or go mad from the pain – perhaps we may help each other... devise a plan of escape.”

Loki considered her offer and agreed to it immediately with a nod.

“I have no intention of being that monster’s fuck-toy forever,” he said with feeling. “I will bide my time and watch for any opportunities... study his weaknesses, learn his habits. Together we will have a better chance of success.”

The woman looked relieved, though still cautious.

“If he should force from you our plans, he will kill me, I know – but I also do not fear death. It is far better than living in fear of him.”

The strength of her resolve reminded Loki of Sif, filling him with a hollow, nameless ache. Simultaneously it reminded him of his manners, despite the barbaric circumstances in which he now found himself.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Gamora.”

“A lovely name... Does it mean something in your native tongue?”

“It means ‘shining star,’” she told him. “What is yours?”

“Loki,” he replied. With a sardonic grin, he added, “It means ‘brilliant one.’”

“Loki,” she repeated. “I will leave you to rest now. If that food does not suit you, I will bring you a different kind next time.”

When he had acknowledged this, Gamora left the room. Loki chewed off small bits of the nutrition bar, grimacing at the taste but willing his stomach to keep it down. He now had a reason to survive, and in order to escape, he would need his body to recover fully.


	57. Interlude 3: Loki Meets Nebula

Loki was summoned by Thanos long before he could recover from his first encounter with the Titan. What little sleep he had caught had been troubled with nightmares, leaving him shaking and desperate for a hot bath and Asgardian food, neither of which was available. Water seemed to be in short supply – the latrine in his cell had a disinfecting light to sanitize his hands but no running water. He was grateful for the large bottle Gamora had brought but since he could not waste it for washing, he made do with seiðr before gingerly putting his clothes back on. Even with his quick-healing body, it would be some time before he could move without pain.

Still, he managed to walk back to Thanos’ throne this time, escorted by four soldiers. Sensing that they were leering at him behind their masked helmets, Loki stood all the taller and prouder, exuding a confidence he did not feel. His pride nearly crumbled, however, when he saw Thanos awaiting him with his obscenely large cock rampant. Loki cast the spell to open his anal passage five times before reaching the throne, hoping it would be enough. He was chagrined when Thanos grinned at him, apparently able to sense what he had done.

“Come here, Pretty One,” the monster rumbled while stroking his cock. “Show me how well you can ride this.”

Loki bit his lip to keep from retching and began to undress slowly in his best semblance of a strip-tease. The thought of being penetrated again by that enormous organ made him tremble with loathing and fear but he was determined not to show it. His movements grew more seductive with each piece of clothing he shed; in part he was delaying the inevitable, but he also knew delayed gratification would make the pleasure seem that much more intense. He turned to flaunt his beautifully rounded ass, bending to remove his boots so Thanos was treated to the best view of it.

The Titan chuckled appreciatively. “You are either very brave or very foolish to tantalize me so, Pretty One. I’m dripping already in anticipation of fucking that pretty ass of yours! But this time I want _you_ to ride it and show me how well you can fuck. Skewer yourself on my cock and tell me how much you _want_ it...”

Although it was the last thing in the universe Loki wanted to do, he mounted the footrest of Thanos’ hovering throne and gazed at the organ, pretending to contemplate it and even licking his lips for good measure. Then he turned away from his captor and lifted himself by bracing his hands on the armrests of the throne. After glancing over his shoulder to confirm the position of the cock, he lowered his ass just enough to rub against the slimy tip, giving Thanos only the slightest amount of friction. When the Titan’s breath grew rough and impatient, Loki pressed against the cock until it squeezed between the lobes of his ass. He inhaled deeply and cast one last spell – this time for lubrication – before lowering his body even further. There was still a good bit of resistance as it slipped through his opening, but at last he impaled himself. Wanting to get the ordeal over as quickly as possible, he thrust his body up and down with purpose, trying to match the pace Thanos had set the previous time. He gauged his success by the satisfied grunts emanating from behind him.

“We’re back, Dad,” came a female voice from the platform below the throne, accompanied by brisk footsteps. “It was another phantom anomaly chase. The fool didn’t even have anything...”

The woman’s words came to a halt as she saw what was happening on the throne. Loki had not intended to slow his movements, but he must have inadvertently done so as he opened his eyes to look at the newcomer – a hairless female with purple and blue skin – and was reminded of his captive condition when Thanos grabbed him by the hips and began pumping him up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, Dad,” the woman said with distaste. “Not another one!”

“Why not, Nebula? Does it incite you to jealousy?” Thanos asked with a leer.

“Hardly. He won’t last a cycle, anyway.”

“You may be surprised. This one is surprisingly... resilient.”

Loki gasped as his own cock was roughly fondled by the Titan’s large hand. His movements stuttered as heat shot through him, engorging his manhood, but Thanos continued to prod him to slide faster on his much larger cock. Loki’s arms were feeling the strain of supporting his body through such rigorous exercise but he dared not stop now. Hoping his captor would soon come, he pushed himself against Thanos’ cock as quickly as he could and, just when he thought his arms might give out, he was rewarded with the heat of semen spurting into his passage and the relief of having his weight supported by Thanos, who now held him still for the sake of thrusting into him more forcefully. A minute later he was lifted up into the air – the better for Thanos to observe the fluids dripping out of his widened hole.

“Good... good,” Thanos growled in delight, turning Loki sideways and licking his cheek. “I am glad I decided to keep you, Pretty One.”

Loki could not stifle the involuntary shudder that ran down his spine as the large, ugly face drew near his own, but the Titan only laughed at his discomfort.

“So, Nebula,” he said, turning his attention back to his daughter. “You have returned empty-handed again?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” she protested. “How could I have known that the trader was a pathological liar? He didn’t have half of the things he’d claimed to, let alone the Soul Stone. It was a total waste of time.”

“I trust you made him pay for his lies?”

“Of course! Though it wasn’t a challenge – he started screaming before I’d even drawn blood. And as I was saying, he didn’t have anything worth taking. I towed his ship back, anyway, in case it might fetch a few units at Knowhere.”

Thanos had been absentmindedly stroking Loki’s cock during Nebula’s report. Loki was now as fully erect as he had ever been, but Thanos was keeping a tight hold around the base of his cock, preventing him from coming while stimulating him to the point of pain. Loki wondered how long he could endure it without going mad.

“Your new fuck-toy,” Nebula began, taking a few steps closer, “has a nice long cock. When you’re done with him, I want to ride it.”

“You think you deserve a reward for bringing me _nothing_?” Thanos asked in turn, his voice dangerously low.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘nothing’ that I searched every corner of that trader’s filthy ship to make sure he didn’t have the Stone,” Nebula replied. “I can’t help it if your _informants_ bring you unreliable information. Besides, I accomplished your standing mission: I instilled the fear of you in all who would hear of the trader’s fate. There’ll be fewer fools who claim to have what they don’t in the future.”

“True enough,” Thanos agreed. “If you will rip out the entrails of those useless informants for me as a further warning to other fools, I suppose you would have earned yourself a good fuck.”

“Thanks, Dad. Shall I go now?”

The Titan’s laugh rumbled through the area. “No, there is no need – I know you will be successful in this next mission. You may fuck my toy now.”

Loki was too shocked to speak as Thanos laid him supine on a hovering slab that lowered him to the platform below, where Nebula was already opening a flap in the crotch of her form-fitting outfit. She climbed onto him without hesitation, straddling him, and used her fingers to part the lips of her cunt. A moment later he was seated balls-deep within her.

“Oh!” she groaned as his tip hit resistance. “Finally! A cock that reaches my spot!”

She shoved herself against him intently without seeming to care that Thanos and several soldiers were watching. Every time Loki’s cock hit the wall within her, she cried out in ecstasy and increased her efforts. Loki watched her in numb fascination for a while before realizing that this was his first time with a woman. If Thanos had not forced him to be erect beyond the point of no return, he might not have remained hard enough to please Nebula; however, it did not take long for her to reach her climax. As she came, screaming with each thrust and shuddering with the intensity of the pleasure, Loki felt her warm juices pouring out of her hole. Although it made him queasy, he still needed release himself.

“My wanton daughter,” Thanos told her with lecherous pride, “you make a lovely sight! But my fuck-toy has not yet come.”

“I can ride him again,” she declared, though she was panting. “I won’t waste his hard cock.”

“I would like to see him ride _you_ ,” Thanos said. “He must earn his keep as well. Spread your legs and let him do the work this time. And bare your breasts so he can suckle them. Show him how sensitive they are.”

Loki detected only the briefest hesitation in Nebula before she complied, lying back on the slab. As Loki crouched to penetrate her, he had to marvel at the dexterous way in which she almost folded herself in half, hooking her knees over her arms to present him her cunt at an angle that was easy to enter. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing – for he had only once been attracted to a female before – opting instead to concentrate on relieving his still-engorged cock. It was not difficult to satisfy Nebula as long as he thrust deep and hard, and soon he found that the sensation of fucking a cunt was not so unlike fucking an anus as to be impossible for him to enjoy. However, despite having been painfully erect for so long, his climax was elusive.

A deep rumble came from close behind him, making Loki realize that the hovering slab had risen and turned to present his ass to Thanos.

“I know what you need, Pretty One,” the Titan said with a chuckle. “I have _exactly_ what you need...”

Loki had only time enough to cast another lubricating spell before Thanos’ cock impaled him again. It was so huge that it could not help but stroke his prostate, and after a few rapid pushes – during which Loki realized that Thanos was, in effect, fucking his supposed daughter through him – Loki began to come, his semen pulsing out with every movement Thanos made. All Loki could do was brace himself to allow his body to function as a condom for his captor. He watched in horror as Thanos fondled Nebula’s breasts under him, pinching her taut nipples until she was crying out with mingled pain and pleasure.

When the last drop of semen had been wrung out of Loki’s body and his cock had begun to grow limp, he was cast aside unceremoniously to be replaced by Thanos himself, who pulled Nebula to the edge of the slab where he stood. There was a sickening _crack_ as the monstrous cock forced its way inside her slim body, pushing the two halves of her pelvic bones apart. She gasped, obviously in pain, but Thanos continued to fuck her, ignoring the bluish blood that began to seep out of her cunt.

Knowing all too well what she was going through, Loki was moved to empathy and did something uncharacteristically kind: he cast the stretching and lubricating spells on her vagina. Immediately her breathing eased and she gave him a curious – possibly grateful – glance. Thanos only grunted, for he was close to his climax and the loosening of her passage, while depriving him of some friction, also made it easier for him to move. His thrusts grew fast and erratic as he came, his vast discharge of semen flowing out of her with each successive push, mixed with Loki’s come as well as her own fluids.

After pulling out of her and sitting back on the throne, Thanos gazed at his cock with indolent satisfaction.

“Come here, Pretty One,” he ordered, indicating his footstool. “Suck me clean.”

Loki scoffed, having regained his breath while his captor had been distracted by Nebula.

“I can service you far better than that,” he said as he nimbly stepped to the footstool. He still needed to look up to meet Thanos’ eyes, but he did so with an unabashed smirk. One swift movement of his hand caused the filth clinging to the Titan’s cock to disappear; another and Loki’s own naked body was clean, even inside his abused orifice. Then with a subtle flick of his wrist, Thanos’ diminishing cock grew hard once again.

“Indeed... you have many... _talents_ ,” Thanos said approvingly as Loki bent to lick the purple cockhead.

“How did he do that?” Nebula demanded. “Make him clean me too!”

“But of course,” Loki purred, shifting so he could see her while he kept his tongue busy. She still had her legs splayed open, making it easy for him to magic away all the fluids on and in her body. He also moved her pelvic bones back into their proper position for good measure.

“Oh! That’s... convenient,” she mumbled. “I like this one, Dad. I hope you don’t wear him out too soon.”

“I doubt that,” Thanos replied. “He comes from one of the hardiest races to ever exist. Look!” He grabbed Loki’s left wrist and pressed a thumb into his forearm, the nail almost puncturing his skin. Pain infused Loki’s veins and traveled upward and outward across his body as the corresponding parts of his skin turned blue and ridged with markings. “He is one of the Frost Folk,” Thanos explained. “They can withstand even the coldest desolation in the universe by lying dormant and allowing their very blood and cells to freeze.”

“He’s blue... like me,” Nebula said, almost in awe.

“Yes, and he will live thousands of years – just as you will, thanks to the modifications I had done to you.” Thanos eased his grip on Loki’s arm, allowing his skin to turn back to its usual color. “You would not want to fuck him while he is in his Jötun form, though; his skin would be ice-cold and may injure yours.”

Loki remembered how the other Jötun’s touch had affected him, freezing and destroying his armor, and felt hollow. It was especially difficult to be reminded that he was a monster by the worst monster he had ever seen.

“But how did he clean us like that?” Nebula was asking.

“This one learned to use seiðr during his time on Asgard – a talent not many can master,” Thanos told her.

Giving himself a mental shake, Loki dared to interrupt his captor. “That is not the only talent I possess.” He smirked again as he dragged his tongue across Thanos’ slit. “Do not forget,” he said between licks, “that I also possess... all the _knowledge_... of the Golden Realm.” He paused to turn his sultry smile up at Thanos, never ceasing to fondle the giant cock with his hands. “You may be tempted by my charms to use me simply as your fuck-toy, but I could be of _much_ better use to you in searching for – and acquiring – this Soul Stone that you seek... or any other treasure for that matter. I doubt your daughter would object to my... _assisting_ her.”

“Hmm,” Thanos rumbled, staring at Loki as though reassessing him. “You make an interesting case, Pretty One. But for now, you may serve me by riding my cock.”

“Of course,” Loki said while stroking it tantalizingly with a finger. He began to turn away from Thanos to ride it as he had before, but the Titan had other plans for him.

“Face me,” he ordered. “I wish to watch your pretty face writhe in pain as you fuck yourself on my cock.”

“As you wish,” Loki responded blandly, trying without success to keep his revulsion from showing.


End file.
